Weekly Selects #20

Hope you had a Merry Christmas. Digital Correspondence for the past week:


-Via Email from Banker (this article):

God does exist and he may be partial to the Japanese...

Out of all the western-originated products to improve on...

The Japanese print is hard to make out, but the developer lists three inadequacies that typical sleeping bags have: (1) If there are things you need, you can't get them without leaving the sleeping bag; (2) If you're ever attacked by a bear, you can't get up and run; and I can't make out the third reason. But I'm sure it's equally as humorous.

This is basically a warmer version of a straight jacket, as the use of arms is nonexistent. Some Q&A I had with the developer:
Q: What if I want to walk down a flight of stairs in this sleeping bag?
A: You're screwed. You will have no arms to prevent you from tumbling to (at least) three broken ribs and a concussion.

Q: What if I get into a brou-haha with my campsite neighbors, and they surround me and decide to start hitting me with bamboo sticks? What can I do?
A: Again: Screwed. You will be like the Black Knight on Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Hilarious movie! Especially those French taunters. Oh man, where they start launching the cows over the castle wal--
Q: /rolling eyes and resisting urge to cock back fist/ Stay on track, sir.
A: Oh yes. Sorry. Essentially, you will be defenseless -- I would at least make an effort to cover your face. Don't worry, though. Welts and lacerations go away. Eventually.

Q: What if all my friends with Snuggies are playing basketball or baseball or something? Will I be able to participate.
A: All I have to say is, I hope you like a faceful of ball. If you didn't realize, you will have the hands of snake while wearing this sleeping bag.

Q: Does the sleeping bag at least come in leopard print? Zebra print?
A: No. We believe in keeping humiliation simple.
 
And there you have it.
 
-Via Email from Sara S:
 


-Via TXT from AM, who parked her car at my house while she went home for Christmas and returned while I was still in TX:

I think someone syphoned out my gas

It's interesting. I moved to a new place which is supposed to be safer than my old neighborhood (alleged "gang territory"), but in two years at the old place, I never had a problem. In the last few weeks, idiots have punched out Josh M's car window and stolen his GPS (the bastards), and they have siphoned the gas out of AM's car (sons of bastards).

Well, Gas Siphoner, I hope your circumstances were extenuating enough to warrant stealing fuel, as in you needed to drive your great-aunt and her broken hip to the emergency room in the middle of the night, or the apocalypse happened and you needed gas for your generator. If it was for something else -- say, to satisfy your pot smoking-induced "munchies" craving with a 2AM Taco Bell run -- I pray you have contracted immobilizing food poisoning from your Super Nachos Grande, and have been tasting the foul cocktail of nacho-vomit, stomach acid, and unleaded 87 for the past half-week. Also to complete the karmic cycle, I hope you find yourself stranded in the middle of the Nevada desert one day, fuelless, and walking in 120 degree weather for countless miles to a gas station. Happy New Year to you.

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My Niece -- The Nascent Terrorist

Is it cause for concern when my 3-year old niece makes her grandmother start talking like Dick Cheney? "Don't give into her demands. Then she wins." I suppose if Shigeko starts talking about launching some sort of preemptive strike against her in order to protect "vital interests" and "American lives," or my niece starts growing a beard and I find her cleaning parts to an AK-47 -- then I'll start worrying about things.

For now, I think I will continue chuckling about how cute she is, even when she's a little assertive.

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Star Wars Status Updates -- Photo of the Week 28 Dec 09

I'm on vacation, so count yourself lucky: I am kifing something from collegehumor.com. Here's just one of them, but there are more at the hyperlink. Enjoy:

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Weekly Selects #19

It is an Asian-oriented (I'm HILARIOUS) week of digital correspondence. Let's get to it:


-Via Facebook from Chunk:

Thought you might appreciate this. Gets worth watching at about 3 min in.

And appreciate it I did. Like with bacon, I never tire of Engrish -- but toss in some extra ingredients like an attractive girl and a dude using memorized, elementary school-taught English phrases in an attempt to seduce said girl, and you've got yourself a tasty breakfast sandwich of hilarious futility.

-Via Email from White Josh:

funny Japanese stuff

20 bucks says that one of these competitors suffered a Greg Oden-like knee injury. Have you ever tried to kick something and then it wasn't there? Painful.

But in complete seriousness, leave it to the Japanese to revolutionize things. Mark my words: This invention will be the Gutenberg of fringe sports. Think about it. Insert your fringe sport of choice after Binocular. Binocular Roller Derby: Tattoed, aggressive women rolling along with wheels on their feet -- and no depth perception. Binocular Bobsled: Dudes crammed into an unprotected sled flying at hundreds of miles per hour. Oh, and they have binoculars strapped to their eyes. Binocular Monster Truck Rally: The ensuing mayhem would be a mess of beer cans and mullets, but I would watch -- and you know you would, too.

-Via TXT from 'Manders:

Today i walked through Wal-Mart with an arm load of granny panties...havent done that in a while.

I could be forthcoming by telling you that Amanda was doing something charitable for the needy during the Christmas season, but I'd rather let you and your imagination have a heyday trying to explain this completely OUT OF THE BLUE text. My initial thoughts were confused. Very confused. As in staring-blankly-at-my-phone-for-10-seconds-straight confused. But I hope someone who saw you snapped a photo, and you are now up on peopleofwalmart.com, Amanda.

-Via Email from the Frizzle:

My brother Bryan was opening his fortune cookie from the Chinese place in town...and it said: Digital circuits are made from analog parts.

Fortune cookies used to be basic, like "You will be rich," "You will find happiness," or "The drunk clown is coming for you when the clock strikes midnight." If I want the universe's ironies and paradoxes pointed out to me, I'm going to listen to Alanis Morissette watch Jon Stewart, son. China, just get back to the fundamentals of fortune cookie-ing.

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The One Where the World Ended -- Photo of the Week 21 Dec 09

Sorry on the delay for PotW. I was too busy having my senses and mind blown away by Avatar 3-D.

You've all heard of the snowstorm that buried the DC Metropolitan area, no doubt. 20 inches of snow is impressive.

Winter Wonderland? For most, probably. But Josh M was trying to leave the area Friday night to go snowboarding and he described the scene that greeted him on the roadways as being "like the end of the world." I asked him if he saw John Cusack flying a small plane. He said no, but cars were strewn all along the sides of the road, driverless. Low visibility. Oh, and this:

Other accounts from friends described grocery stores as picked completely clean of all milk, eggs, and bread (apparently french toast is the choice of the snowed-ins); gas stations with no regular unleaded left. Because that's how we roll in the nation's capitol and its adjacent suburbs: Panicked, overreactive, and expecting the worst.


Happy short week, everyone.

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Weekly Selects #18

-Via TXT from Josh M:

This dude next to me at the bank just withdrew a hundred ones no joke

Uh, well, let's see...you can buy tons of different things for $100, so I'm not judging -- but the possible list of purchases that require 100 separate one-dollar bills is pretty short. So now I'm judging.

-Via IM from White Josh, completely out of the blue:

have you ever been sitting down somwhere and had to ask yourself if you are wearing any underwear? Just had a drafty moment and had to think about getting dressed this morning

Uh, maybe? I have had mornings where I get so little sleep I accidentally put my facewash in my hair and my shampoo in my washcloth, but I'm pretty sure I have not left the house without underwear.


-Via Email from my sister Jen, who actually sent this years ago, but 'tis the Christmas season:



Unfortunately, listening to this has become an annual holiday tradition for me.

I would like to enlist this man to sing a few hand-picked classics, such as: Any Mariah Carey song, just for more kicks and giggles; "The Star-Spangled Banner," because let's be honest, it's time to replace Carl Lewis's straight murdering of the national anthem with a newer rendition, and he would do Mr. Key proud, I'm sure; and last but not least, "Nuthin' But a G Thang." Why Snoop and Dre, you ask? Because the song is generationally-defining, son, and I want to see if this dude's rhythm is as impressive as both his vocal range and command of pitch when he delivers lyrics like "Fallin' back on that ass with a hellified gangsta' lean / Gettin' funky on the mic like a' old batch o' collard greens."

Instant classics. All of them.

Let's end on a good holiday note, shall we?

-Via Facebook from sister Juju, about her daughter, Elise:

I found Elise this morning in front of the Christmas tree. She'd pulled a chair right up to it and was just staring at it and when she saw me said, "Isn't it so beautiful?"

Ah. That's the Christmas season I know and love. And I love my nieces and nephew, because they always help me relive a little bit of childhood.

Merry Christmas and happy holidays, all.

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Redneck Santa -- Photo of the Week 14 Dec 09

Your PotW, courtesy of Rye:

I could never remember all of the reindeer's names, but I guess it doesn't matter since they're ALL DEAD -- systematically killed, taxydermied, and decorporealized (real word. Trust me). Floating reindeer heads will now likely haunt me in my dreams. And PETA will proceed to file a suit against Santa Claus. Ah, the Christmas season.



Happy Monday. Christmas approaches; as does your deadline to get your shopping done.

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Weekly Selects #17

A little long this week, but got some good content from friends. Thanks to the submitters. Enjoy:

-Via email from Taylor C:

My favorite is the guy in the middle, the guy furthest to the right, and the guy third from the right.

For me, picking a favorite was difficult. It's the same as deciding which Travolta movie from the last decade was the worst: It is subjective and completely impossible; they are all so bad.

In fairness, the US trainers should have been issued some clear and specific instructions on activities that would likely be too taxing on the recruits' amply impaired coordination. Something along the lines of:

1. Brushing teeth: ALLOWED, so long as recruits maintain a safe distance of 20 feet from others
   
2. Walking up/down stairs: ALLOWED UNDER TRAINER SUPERVISION ONLY
   
3. Tying shoes: ALLOWED, but waiver form must be signed first
   
4. Anything remotely resembling athletics and requiring corresponding skills: STRONGLY DISCOURAGED, injury to individual and anyone nearby HIGHLY LIKELY
   
5. Rubbing stomach and patting head, or vice versa: STRICTLY FORBIDDEN; trainees will experience aneurysm-induced full body convulsions, eyeballs will be liquefied, and teeth will shatter.

I mean, really. It's a simple list to put together.

-Via Google Reader share from Rijen, who, knowing my frustrations with the Swedes and their damn IKEA, sent me an article about Swedish-Israeli tensions, as Sweden issued a proposal calling for the EU to recognize East Jerusalem as the capital of a Palestinian state. The Israeli response?

"The peace process in the Middle East is not like IKEA furniture," one official said, making a reference to the do-it-yourself Swedish furniture chain. "It takes more than a screw and a hammer, it takes a true understanding of the constraints and sensitivities of both sides, and in that Sweden failed miserably."

Sure, the Israeli official is right that it's a sensitive issue, but his statement is off because HE doesn't have a true understanding of how difficult it is to assemble IKEA furniture (I do believe I'm operating on some meta-level of argument now). It takes the ability to decipher and understand cryptic drawings and translate them into actionable movements. Much harder than you give it credit for Mr. Israeli official, sir, so be careful with your comparisons.

(Unnecessary endnote: An interesting experiment would be to get the above Iraqi soldiers to assemble an IKEA chest-of-drawers. Did I just blow your mind?!? THAT. JUST. HAPPENED.)

-Via Gchat from the Boiler (from FAIL Blog, titled "EPIC DATE FAIL"):

you need to talk to some people
you can't let that stuff get out on the internet

I...I...have...no words...

But really, I watched Hancock yesterday and Hancock was an a-hole superhero who needed a PR guy to revamp his image. I think Japan needs that -- it is a technologically advanced democracy of intelligent individuals that continues to confound the world with its unparalleled "social weirdo"-to-"normal person" ratio (now easily at a strong 3-to-1) -- and I think I am the one to do it. First order of business: Re-instituting the use of the pillory in public spaces, and making an example of these two and the guy who married the video game character. Even Human Rights' groups would KNOW that I was justified.

-Via email from Rye, with the accompanying explanatory background from the originator:

Good news is that I truly out did myself this year with my Christmas decorations.  The bad news is that I had to take him down after two days.  I had more people come screaming up to my house than ever.  Two things made me take it down.

First, the cops advised me that it would cause traffic accidents as they almost wrecked when they drove by.

Second, a 55 year old lady grabbed the 75 pound ladder almost killed herself putting it against my house and didn’t realize that the body was fake until she climbed to the top (she was not happy).  By the way, she was one of the many people who attempted to do that.  My yard couldn’t take it either.  I have more than a few tire tracks where people literally drove up my yard.”

I don't know whether or not to applaud the man.

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Ham, Illegal Drugs, and Iraqi Diseases

You might be wondering what those three have in common, and I hope nobody was thinking "Christmas dinner with the family."

Yesterday was a strange day. Someone brought in a whole ham left over from a family dinner party and left it in the kitchenette next to my cubicle. My coworkers converged like vultures on a dead carcass (I suppose that technically, it was a carcass -- albeit a honey-baked one). Now, I would be a hypocrite to call it strange to capitalize on free food -- when people bring in jelly-filled donuts I'm the one at the front knocking old women out of the way. The strange thing was watching coworker after coworker leave the kitchenette with a handful of ham wrapped in a paper towel -- apparently there was a shortage of plates.

Next, there was the office-wide email with directions for the holiday gift exchange. It listed the prohibited items, two of which were "illegal drugs" and "knives (with blades exceeding 2 1/2 inches in length)." You know what this means, right? This means that SOMEONE HAS TRIED TO DO THIS BEFORE. "Man, Scott has been such a good mentor to me this past year. I'm thinking he would enjoy a fruit basket and some angel dust."

Finally, Ben called to inquire about my recent illness and the sequence of my symptoms. When did I have a sore throat? How long did that last? Did I have a fever at any point? It was like an episode of House, only Ben didn't insult me, and I didn't have a gruesome symptom like blood gushing out my eyes -- instead, he told me that he had been sick with similar symptoms, and then the surpriser: "[Based on the unique symptoms] I think we have an Iraqi bug of some sort." Ben's an MD, so I'm guessing I have been infected with some sort of Middle Eastern virus.

Wait -- what?

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Noko: Real. Awkward. Jeans -- Photo of the Week 7 Dec 09

 Josh M referred me to this PotW. Awkward company photos from Noko Jeans, a Swedish company attempting to make jeans in North Korea. Here's one of Mr. Erik Wahlstrom, an employee of Noko who takes jeans production in poor, authoritarian-ruled countries very, very seriously:

This is like awkward elementary school photos we used to take when we were kids, only this is a company with grownups. Maybe we should start the practice of individual photos for a company in the US, and since Nartker is the only CEO that I know personally, I challenge him to start the trend.

At the very least, I would like to see Brett Favre photos like this for Wrangler. Wait, what? You want me to MS Paint it? Oh, here you go:

It would look much better if Brett were wearing all black. And if had freaky eyes, instead of his warm, soft ones and disarming smile. I guess you can't have everything.

I suggest you view all photos that Noko Jeans has posted on Flickr because they're all SO GOOD. Settling on one to post here was what I imagine it would be like to pick your favorite amongst multiple children. What say ye, RoSA Readers? Vote for your favorite Noko'er in the comments. It'll be a nice poll.

Also, two random, unsolicited items for your enlightenment:

1. I have a noticeable cut just above my right eyeball along with some redness and swelling. I may have been in a bar on Saturday night, and may have called a Yale alum a "sweater-tying yuppie nobody", and he may have punched me with his enormous class ring. Or, I probably smacked myself in the eye with my ping-pong paddle because I was following through a little too much. I did put some wicked spin on that ball.
2. Luke Wilson, star of hit movies such as My Super Ex-Girlfriend and Legally Blonde 2: Red, White & Blonde, was in my dream last night, asking me to help finance his next movie, and saying that he would make me a good return on my money. That's like PETA asking me to make a donation and promising that they won't make obscene advertisements with my money. It's just not going to happen. And why Luke Wilson? It's got to be those stupid AT&T commercials.

Happy Monday to you.

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Weekly Selects #16

This one's embed-heavy near the end. Enjoy:


-Via Email from Ring-dawg:

I think you will appreciate this.

An article titled "Bacon Gets Its Just Desserts" from NPR, with some recipes. Bacon is King.

Bacon has really experienced a meteoric rise in the last half decade, I feel, and based on the declining influence of the US dollar as a universally accepted currency, I'm predicting that 20 years from now we will be trading in bacon. Mobsters will be making shady deals exchanging briefcases containing stacks of rubber-banded strips of bacon; robbers will be seen fleeing banks with bags rendered semi-transparent from soaked bacon grease; bacon-bits will be the equivalent of pennies -- technically worth something, but disregarded and viewed with open disdain. Mark my words.


-Via Gchat from JMill:

I found your blog competitor
http://chopstika.blogspot.com/2009/12/whats-in-blog.html
your nemesis
seriously, she stole your blog

JMill has a much stronger vindictive streak than you would give her cheery personality credit for. Once, when Einstein's Bagels didn't make her breakfast sandwich the way she wanted it, she FLIPPED. I don't want to go into details, but let's just say that the manager of that particular Einstein's got the worst of it; that a taser, 20 yards of saran wrap, and a bar of Irish Spring soap in a sock were involved (don't ask); and there are currently arrest warrants out on JMill effective in three northern VA counties. It wasn't pretty (and neither are her mugshots hanging up on the WANTED posters in the local post office. /shudder/).

Or maybe she just wrote a letter to Einstein's corporate headquarters voicing her complaints about service received and got a $25 gift certificate for her troubles? I can't remember the details.

Well, regardless, if I have future ambitions to corner the internet market on sarcastic Asianism I'm sure I could get JMill to issue some sort of menacing message to this girl; in the meantime, I'll just let those vengeful thoughts of her's ruminate on some other scheme.

-Via various Emails, Google Reader shares, referrals from friends: I openly (and proudly) acknowledge my complete lack of firsthand experience when it comes to the Twilight movies and books (I'm afraid, like George Costanza, that THERE IS NOT ENOUGH VOLTAGE IN THIS WORLD TO ELECTROSHOCK ME BACK INTO COHERENCE [3:30-mark] were I to view/read any portion of them). And while many fans would equate my criticisms as ignorance, I have numerous credible and intelligent sources telling me that they're no good.

Here are some of the parodies I have viewed over the last few weeks:

-A hilarious rejected screenplay from Eric Snider.

-A "How it Should Have Ended":




-An SNL Parody:



-A 1-minute recap of the movie, showing nothing happens, plot-wise:



I actually think this is the ideal way to view a movie you know you will dislike: Watch and read all the related parodies you can find, THEN watch the actual movie. The movie will instantly become a comedy, and EVERYTHING WILL BE FUNNY (this will also make you insufferably annoying if viewing the movie with actual fans).

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Wait, WHAT?! -- Photo of the Week 30 Nov 2009

Take a good, long look at this Japanese man:

He was recently married. Congratulations are usually in order for a newlywed, but hold your peace for this dude. He is one weird, messed up man. He decided to swap vows with a VIDEO GAME CHARACTER. Just let that little twisted fact sink in for a second. This is disturbing, and I hang my head in shame.

I suppose the Happy Monday takeaway message is that you are not this man, that you retain a connection with reality; oh, and that you are not this man.

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Weekly Selects #15

Thanksgiving Edition...Here we go:

-Via Email from M, since football is part of the Thanksgiving tradition. Check out this six-year old!



I hope he follows up any and all tackles with a WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD JACKASS

-Via Email from JoshM, an article presenting "research" on "The 10 Most Obscene Cities in America":

Herndon, Va. is a suburb of Washington, D.C., in the heart of the area's tech corridor and right next to Dulles Airport.

It's also the most obscene city in America, as determined by analyzing data from Google.

I lived in Herndon for two years; on top of that, #5 on this list is Reston, VA, where I currently reside. I take umbrage with this research and the methodologies used to draw such conclusions. Would the study results hold up to any sort of academic or empirical rigor? 

This study is bull*&%#.

-Via Chat with a friend who asked to remain Anonymous:

don't judge me for what i'm about to say

One sec. I'm just going to get out my powdered wig and gavel... Ok, continue:

but i think i saw the coach for Team Ugly at the gym last night. seriously josh, this guy was like stop-you-in-your-tracks ugly. i don't know if he plays basketball or not...and i know you have been lobbying for an NBA player to take the position

Anonymous Mean Face proceeded to try and rationalize her lack of human compassion by saying that if I, JD, can get away with trying to compile an All Ugly NBA Team, why can't she say things like this? The reason: The NBA team is full of dudes who are STACKING MORE SCRILLA THEN WE WILL MAKE IN OUR LIFETIMES. Ergo, if I want to call them goofy-looking bastards because deep down I'm actually jealous, then yes -- yes, I am justified. Now, Joe Schmoe at your local gym...? I dunno...

-Via Google Reader, a Parenting FAIL from Craigslist:

SINGLE MOM OF 7 SEEKING BON JOVI PIT TICKETS AT GILLETTE STADIUM. DON'T HAVE MUCH (ANY) MONEY, BUT CAN TRADE THE SWINE FLU VACCINE FOR 6 OF THE KIDS.

Now, the thing that I'm interested in finding out here is the Chicken or the Egg: Does Bon Jovi turn his fans into idiots, or are idiots inextricably drawn to Bon Jovi? This question may forever confound scholars and the educated -- much as the beginnings of the universe, the construction of Stonehenge, and the unremitting tabloid coverage of Jon and Kate Gosslin will continue to puzzle us.

I have no friends that like the man or his music; the closest I have is Casey, who enjoys playing the drum part on Guitar Hero for "Living on a Prayer." His knack for things like common sense and caring for his family don't make him a good case study for the effects/causes of Bon Jovi, though.

-Via Email from JoJo, for your Thanksgiving viewing pleasure:



YOU'RE WELCOME. Happy Turkey Day. Be thankful.

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The One Where Italians Aren't Wusses -- Photo of the Week 23 Nov 2009

Has anyone heard of Calcio Fiorentino? It's an early form of football that has been eclipsed by less violent modern-day sporting events like rugby, professional wrestling, and trying to take photos of Mike Tyson in an airport.

It very well could be the manliest game ever, allowing "tactics such as head-butting, punching, elbowing, and choking," but forbids "sucker-punching and kicks to the head." Now, I'm no advocate of sucker-punching (aka Blounting), but where the originators decided to draw the line between strangling a guy and punching them when they're not looking seems a bit, oh, what's the word...arbitrary to me. I saw no rules either way on "folded metal chair taken from the stands" or "tazing."

This PotW was chosen from this collection; I liked it mostly because there is obviously a WWF-style piledriver about to take place. Go Italians for continuing to play a virtually ignored and obsolete sport.


It's a short week, all. Happy Monday, indeed!

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Weekly Selects #14

This week's is relatively weak, but LAY OFF ME I'VE BEEN BUSY. Let's do this:


-Via email from JMill, this picture and accompanying description (the link):

The police department in the small Minnesota town of Proctor will put a motorized lounge chair up for auction next week after it was seized in a drunk driving incident. The black and blue pleather lounge chair...comes complete with stereo, footrest, cupholders, headlights, a nitro­us oxide power boost system, drag racing style steering wheel and a parachute.

Well sure, it's got some nice features, but if it can't automatically parallel park itself, I'm not even interested.

-Via Blog Comment from Melody N, who, without forewarning got to hear from Shigeko about my hair whilst spectating the marathon:

I just want to know if your mom cut your hair in your sleep the first night you got to WA.

No, surprisingly, in her handling of my hair Shigeko has not taken radical and drastic action, like drugging my dinner and taking garden shears to it while I'm passed out on the kitchen floor. No, she has chosen silence as her weapon. Like n The Dark Knight when the Joker gets captured and placed in the jail, my mom remains relatively silent, not saying anything, but I know she's looking at my hair, and I know some plot is being concocted in that head of hers.

As for post-race plans with the hair, the plan has always been to cut it short again. Some have asked if I would consider bic'ing it; my hesitation is that I have no idea what my head looks like. For all I know, it could have all kinds of ghastly deformities and mis-shapens all over it, and I might become the human equivalent of this bear:

(The bear has some condition causing it to be bald)

 

I honestly think the world isn't ready to see that kind of ugliness swiveling on top of my neck.

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The Marathon -- Photo(s) of the Week 16 Nov 2009

Well, neither of my worst-case scenarios happened while I was out for my little run on Saturday:

(If given the choice, I personally would have preferred the fate of the former [collapsed, naked, and about to die] than the latter [streaming, bloody nipples... you ever try to shower with those?] Luckily, it came to neither)

Some might view traveling 2600 miles to run 26.2 impractical; or training for 10 months to run for 3.5 hours disproportionate. But it was worth it, and Nartker and I finished Run the River Marathon with the help of supportive family and friends. Couldn't have done it without them.

The smiling, un-pained looks on our faces are indicative of these pictures being taken at the 4-mile mark, and not at the end. If they were at the end, my face would have been contorted and twisted in a display of unbearable pain.

Some quick awards:

• Mike Ditka Award: Coach. He may not have the mustache, but he had the same demands for discipline and high-performance that Dit-KAH demanded of his football teams. If I didn't have Coach driving me, I would still be collapsed on the side of the race trail today.
  

• Pre-Race Comic Relief and Gutsy Performance Award: Nartker, who grabbed his Body Glide stick (anti-chafing material) before the race, headed into the bathroom, and came out declaring something along the lines of: "I think I just violated myself with the Body Glide." The man's legs also fell apart like a Saturn sedan, but he fought through a hurt knee, an Achilles heel issue and his body sucking up electrolytes faster than he could put them in in order to finish. Well done, sir.

• Traveling Fan Base Award: Ma and Pops Dalton. Flew down from WA State to watch me a total of five times over the course of 3 1/2 hours. Granted, the painted faces and incoherent, drunken screaming of die-hards were not present in my parents, but their support was greatly needed and appreciated.

• Dale Earnhardt / "I didn't plan on running 1/3 of a marathon today, but I did" Award: J and Casey Tanner. Tore through the suburbs of Sacramento, CA, channeling Fast & Furious driving skills (likely scaring my passenger parents half to death in the process) in order to get to as many spots along the trail as possible. They also ran a ridiculous amount alongside myself and Nartker as encouragement.

• "They say patience is a virtue -- but damn, virtues are boring and lame" Award: AM. For having to deal with my "I've gotta go for a long run today" statements over the last half year.

• The Consummate Dumba** Award: The Idiot-Girl in Sacramento. Unfortunately I wasn't there for this, but at one of the stops my parents and the Tanners went to, some imbecile impersonating a 20-year old girl got out and started dropping f-bombs on my mom and J because they thought they were dropping off marathon runners by car to get ahead. Right. The Imbecile, of course, could not be reasoned with because the capacity for logic and intelligent dialogue is housed inside of the cerebrum, a part of the brain that is reserved for the more evolved species -- like people, or reptiles, or amphibians and such. Well done, ma'am, and let's just say that the two fingers I'm throwing in your direction are not my thumbs.
  

Lest you get Marathon Recap Fatigue, I will end this entry here. I may have some more thoughts on it later, but for now I am going to go enjoy my vacation.


Happy Monday, all. Time for me to nurse my sore legs.

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Weekly Selects #13

Digital correspondence for the past week. Apologies, most of the selections involve my upcoming marathon in Sacramento. I hope this doesn't provide TOO much insight into my life/relationships. Let's do this:

-Via Gchat with Casey, from last Friday, regarding my trip to Sac-town:

just think, this time next week, you'll be waking up next to me

The plan for my trip was to spend Thursday night at Casey's. Operative word: WAS.

-Via Email from Gnomie, who is well-acquainted with my undying affinity for bacon (the article):

not only have you probably already seen this, but you probably have already incorporated it into your robust daily diet of bacon product:

Squeez Bacon! Finally, something the Swedes have seen fit to bestow on the world besides Stockholm Syndrome and the inability to take sides in a major world conflict! From the article: "By precooking it and blending it in a special way, he [the inventor] was able to make a fully cooked 100% bacon paste that could be squeezed from a tube."

To take something as beautiful as bacon and twist it like this is wrong. Like...like... oh hell, let's unleash the inner nerd: It's like in Lord of the Rings where the Elves get disfigured and mutilated and the end-product is the Orcs. There, I said it.

-Via Gchat with Butz, while we were discussing my upcoming marathon and how I was planning on mitigating the chafing of sensitive areas in my chest region. I explained that I had bought a deodorant-like stick to prevent chafing, and told him this:

...so I will be coating my nipples in that

I know some of the readership is not comfortable with the terminology, and I pray I will never be typing that sentence ever again in my life, but I'll do whatever I have to avoid this poor sap's fate:

(I realize by quoting myself on my own blog, my egotism has reached Kanye Westian heights, but fear not: I will be interrupting Taylor Swift acceptance speeches before you know it.)


-Via Gchat with Nartker, who told me that the forecasted temperature for the start of the marathon has continued dropping as we get closer. I think right now we're looking at 38 degrees. His commentary:

I think my junk just shrunk just thinking about it...sorry for the tmi

Anatomical references are in abundance this posting. Again, my apologies.

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A Clash of Cultures?

Halloween has come and gone. And while as an adult I may not always be ecstatic about the holiday, I'm at least fascinated by it. It's the holiday that offers us the chance to NOT be ourselves. So really, if you're already having some sort of identity crisis; or delusional visions of your own grandeur; or are just generally confused about your place in this world, here is the opportunity to exacerbate the problem and further separate yourself from reality! You know, really mess with your own head. It's good for the mental health.

There are always interesting costumes, and even more interesting couples:

Mary Poppins from the magical world of Disney paired with a cold, heartless, "cut first, let God sort them out later" samurai from a feudalistic island-nation. How do you describe that combination? The most fitting parallel I can think of comes from Seinfeld stand-up: "To me, it's like combining swimming and strangling a guy. That makes just as much sense to me."

So maybe we were an odd couple. But I think Halloween would be more fun if couples -- instead of coordinating their outfits to be matching (lame) -- went for costumes that were the most dissimilar. It would make things a lot of interesting, and avoid the cutesy lameness I just mentioned..

It's alright. Maybe I should have listened to the pleadings for me to stick with my group's Disney theme and been Mowgli from The Jungle Book, but for some reason, walking around in a loincloth all night just didn't appeal to me. At least my ancestors were happy with the decision.

And how 'bout this combination of friends?

The Boy Who Never Ages, a samurai, and the World's Most Wanted Terrorist? A bit of a culture clash -- but damn, we looked good doing it.

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A-Rod the Centaur -- Photo of the Week 9 Nov 2009

This may be old news to some of you, but...

(writer's conception)

To answer the quizzical look on your face, NY Yankees star Alex Rodriguez, is reported to have a portrait of himself as a centaur hanging in his bedroom. A painting he commissioned. Commissioned: As in he proactively thought of the idea, sought out a painter, and paid said painter.

Now, many of you may be thinking this is strange. Beyond strange. Vain. Egotistical. But before you become judgmental of A-Rod, I suppose a confession is in order. I actually commissioned some paintings of my own a few years back. The problem I ran into -- besides finding a portrait artist whom I could afford -- was that I never specified what sort of creature I wanted my head to be placed on. Needless to say, the portrait didn't turn out so well:

Not what I would classify as flattering. Oh well. Some things just don't go as expected. I hope A-Rod is happy with how his turned out.

But really, it's super creepy. Previous to knowing this about A-Rod, here's a rough estimation of how my Top 3 "Things That Creep Me Out To No End" list was laid out:

1. Clowns
2. Creepy movie-children
3. Ventriloquist dummies
   

And now, the new list:

1. Clowns
2. Creepy movie-children
3. Alex Rodriguez

On a career note for him, maybe once he's done with baseball, we'll see if A-Rod makes a cameo in the next few Narnia movies.

Happy Monday. Spend the rest of the day being jealous of my MS Paint skills.

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Weekly Selects #12

There is much this week that left me speechless. Thanks to all for keeping me entertained throughout with digital correspondence. Alright, let's do this:

-Via Gchat from Banker, in the spirit of the Halloween season (from here):

Wow. That pumpkin must have been coming off of a 'roids cycle and got his dual decapitating/skinning RAGE ON. I have no words. 

-Via Email from JMill, whose coworkers are growing mustaches for cancer, and sending around pictures of ones that they randomly find on the internet. This one is UNbelievable:

Mike M, one of the most well-spoken individuals I know, could only muster the following in reply to the email:

Sweet Mercy... words cannot express...

Quite frankly, words failed me as well. Much like we experience the loss of fine motor skills when encountering a shock or trauma, my higher thinking and reasoning also came to a screeching halt upon seeing this photo. But while my verbal capacities may have had a temporary Expression FAIL at the horrifying sight of someone who has grown a continuous strand of hair from his upper lip down to AND around his nipples, my basic instincts still knew what to do when confronted with something grotesque: conjure up a strong and uncontrollable urge to vomit.

And not just in a "threw up a bit in my mouth" sense -- it was more in the I JUST TRIED TO DRINK A GALLON OF MILK PLEASE HOLD MY HAIR BACK WHILST I SHARE FACETIME WITH THE TOILET FOR THE REST OF THE NIGHT sort of sense.

Or, if you are more of a visual learner:



You get the gist.

-Via Google Reader, I found an article and amazing video clip about "The Today Show." But first, I want to remind you of something. Remember this side-by-side picture of my 3-year old self?

What's the connection, you're wondering? Well, "The Today Show" did its annual Halloween segment and they hired a few people to dress up in Ewok costumes. According to the author of the article, a friend who works for the show said this:

“For what it’s worth, a friend who works at the Today Show confirms that they were both midgets and drunk.”

The clip is well-worth the watch if you have the time. But here's my question: Where were auditions for this segment 20 years ago? I could have been a DRUNK EWOK:

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy
 

-Via Email from Saree; I will provide the headline and leading paragraph of the article:

Bear Kills Militants in Kashmir
A Bear killed militants after discovering them in its den in Indian-administered Kashmir, police say.

Chalk one up for Jack Bauer's CTU. As soon as I finished reading the article, I started visualizing how it went down for the two victims, Qaiser and Saifullah:

(Nighttime. Qaiser and Saifullah, exhausted, approach a cave in the darkness)
Q: Saifullah, this will be our refuge tonight.
S: Are you sure, Qaiser? There are bones everywhere. I do not trust it.
Q: It is fine. Keep your AK-47 ready.
(The two sit down, backs to the mouth of the cave. It is silent for a few minutes. Crickets chirp outside)
Q: Saifullah, is your beard darker, or is it darkness?
S: *chuckles* I actually started using some of the westerners facial hair product "Just For Men" to remove the white from my beard. My wife says it makes me more appealing.
Q: I do not need such western abomination fakeness to impress women. Women say I am handsome; that I look like the Iraqi Sayid on the American show 'LOST.'
S: I hate that show. They only leave questions unanswered. What is the black smoke? Where did the white bears come from? And why don't Jack and Kate just get together?
Q: Bah. Jack and Kate? Sawyer is much better for Kate. It is obvious. And they're called "polar" bears. Guess what I found out, though? I was on the internets and found out that Sayid is not even Iraqi. He is of Indian descent!

S: Disgusting. I can no longer like him.
(Twigs snap in the forest outside of the cave. Some growling is heard)
S: *fearful look on his face* Qaiser! Did you hear that? I think something is outside.
Q: *stroking his beard* Nonsense.
S: I am of seriousness, Qaiser!
Q: *chuckling derisively* You worry too much.  Do you think there are polar bears outside? Like in 'LOST'?? AHAHAHA. I laugh at your foolishness, Saifullah.

(900-lb bear bursts in, commences mauling and bone-crunching of Saifullah and Qaiser. Roll credits)

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Butt Rock or Not -- ROUND 2

Well, due to the popularity of the last Reader's Vote to determine if someone's t-shirt/overall appearance is "butt rock or not," I give you the Kiss fan I met at a Halloween Party:

(Remember, 1 is completely devoid of butt rockness, 10 is Poison-esque.)

I'm not going to let you know where my opinion lies on the issue -- all I'm going to say is that purchasing 8-inch platform shoes from the Kiss museum, wearing them, AND being semi-mobile in them for an entire night at a dance party is impressive in its own right. He had done his homework, too -- he was telling me all of the details about the Kiss concert he had recently attended. Hilarious.

Saw the kid almost take a tumble, though. Like watching one of those stilt-walking clowns fall. It all happened in slow motion.

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Meeting the Sports Guy -- Photo of the Week 2 Nov 2009

The Sports Guy, Bill Simmons, who is one of my favorite writers, is touring to promote his new book, The Book of Basketball. DC's ESPN Zone was his first stop, so I got down there to meet the man. He skipped dinner to shake hands and chat, and was congenial and expressed gratitude to us as the readers. Maybe he doesn't realize that his columns get working Americans in the 18-35 male demographic through their tedious work weeks. It is we who should be thanking him.

Going to the book signing was an interesting study of celebrity worship in America. The person behind me in line was visibly nervous, and began vocally brainstorming something "funny" he could say to Simmons. He was running his ideas by everyone in line around him. Nobody in line was helping him, but it was probably because every other frat boy in line was trying to come up with witticisms of their own with which they could impress Bill. It was as if The Sports Guy were holding auditions for a new best friend. Yup, an intelligent writer like Bill Simmons is as pathetic as Paris Hilton, everyone!

Also, in case you were wondering, I'm convinced that the portrait in the background is Brigham Young -- mostly because I can picture Brother Brigham toting a baseball glove, bat, and disproportionately LARGE head around with him. (I understand caricature, but that's "like an orange on a toothpick!")


Happy new week, all. As much as you can, enjoy your Monday.

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Beasties Bracketology

Disputes and disagreements have always been a part of human history, and will continue to be.

As for the best way of settling those disputes -- well, everyone has an opinion, and that is dictated by a combination of factors: religion, education, nationality, occupation. It's a long list.

For example, you ask a surfer how to settle a disagreement, he'll say to "chill, brah" and then burn down a joint. A baseball manager will tell you that throwing a tantrum involving, but not limited to, the following actions will solve things: Kicking dirt; yelling angry stuff two inches from an umpire's face; taking a tazer to said umpire once his back is turned (my philosophy: strike first, ask questions later). And then, if you could ask him I'm sure Aaron Burr would have told you a good ol' fashioned pistol duel; Alexander Hamilton also seemed to be of the same opinion until he had a lead ball stuck in his chest. Anyway, you get the idea.

I have a discovered a foolproof way of resolving disagreements: Brackets. Maybe the 100 Years' War wouldn't have lasted so long if they'd sat down hashed things out, bracket-style. Who knows.

I bring this up because after three weeks and 171 emails of vigorous debate, Boyer, Jay Z, J2K and I have settled the mother of all disputes -- the greatest Beastie Boys' song ever -- via a 64-song tournament bracket. You all care, I know. The winner: Shadrach, a lesser-known song from an even lesser-known album called Paul's Boutique.

Eventually reaching that consensus was much harder than any of us ever imagined it would be. At the outset, none of us knew what we were in for. Had I known, I would have given some deep, profound pre-tourney pep-talk, channeling Friday Night Lights: "We will be tested. We will be tested to our very souls."

Granted, Coach Taylor said the above in the context of his star quarterback having just suffered a paralyzing injury, but whatever.

See, the tournament presented no clear-cuts, no black v. white, no right v. wrong -- just awesome v. awesome. Every single matchup featured two songs that we grew up loving, so pitting them against each other and having to pick a winner between them created intense internal conflict -- like that scene in Spartacus when Spartacus and Antoninus are forced to duel each other to the death. Both are guys you like and you don't WANT to cheer for a winner, because that also means there will be a loser.

Having to pick only one to come out of it alive twisted us all up in knots. Kept us up at night. Found us crouched in the corner of the shower, weeping because we'd never been so lost and conflicted in our lives.

But we pushed on. And here is the end product; our finalized bracket (click to enlargin'):

I will be making a commemorative CD featuring the tournament's final 16 songs. Let me know if you're interested in having a copy.

And now, some testimonials from the participants.

Boyer:

Quite the undertaking we all got on board for...I don't think anyone (certainly not myself) thought things would be this massive or this involved... Perhaps this is a life lesson about our place in the universe and the value in futility. The Beasties still teach us things about ourselves to this day.

Jay Z:

Having recently completed my role as a voter in the greatest musical tournament of all time, I have a few reflections.  I learned more about the Beastie Boys, as well as myself, than I thought possible.

J2K was unavailable for comment, as he is currently planning the massive corporate takeover of yet another company, Donald Trump-style, only he's doing it with better hair.


Sending you off with the greatest music video ever. Enjoy, and be safe over your Halloween weekend.

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Weekly Selects #11

Back in the saddle with some D.C. from the past week or so:


-Via Facebook from Jenny P and Nartker, respectively, regarding the growth that is my hair:

I'm more concerned that your hair is going to make your marathon time 5 minutes slower at least...


That is some serious salad Josh. . . I'll be able to draft behind that thing during the marathon. . . I like it.

As mentioned before, I am of the firm belief that my hair is sentient, so I think it's just glad that it's still a topic of conversation. Large hair has needs, too, ya know.

-Via Email from AG, a rather hilarious article titled the "Brocyclopedia" defining the term "bro." An excerpt:

Brosephs are best known for taking bro-like behavior to its extremes. For example, while the wearing of a backward visor is a strong indication of a bro, a broseph may be identified by wearing a visor backwards and upside down.

-Via Email from Saree, which I found to be related to Jay's nascent crusade against my people:

 Honestly, I can't argue with that. Now hanging in my cubicle at work.

-Via Gchat from Banker, a proud Philly native and staunch Phillies fan, who just sent me the URL to this article. The gist: A Philly woman offering sex for World Series tickets.

Now, Banker never actually expressed pride or disgust at his fellow Philadelphian, so the jury is still out on how he feels about it.

-Via Email from cousin Mei Mei, who is hosting a Mac & Cheese contest this coming Sunday, where we will all make and bring our own homemade dishes to enter into competition. She was throwing out suggestions on a prize for the winner:

we could smear all the mac and cheese down a slip and slide, winner gets first slide.

Disgusting, yes, but you know you'd watch a YouTube video of it. It is likely that the real disgusting thing will be whatever I concoct for said contest, considering I have no competency in the mac&cheese department, and will likely conjure up some blob-mass that will be indistinguishable from The Swamp Thing, hardened caulking, or some sordid combination of both.

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The Squirrel Sign -- Photo of the Week 26 Oct 2009

Remember the squirrel that somehow got stuck in our wall, and kept us awake by clawing all the time? Probably not. Anyway. Squirrel stuck in the wall.

I wasn't here for it last year but Josh M says something similar happened, and that after a week or two the clawing stopped because, well -- because the little dude died. The real problem arose when management -- oblivious to the well-established fact that unburied corpses tend to reek -- took forever to come bust the wall open and take him away.

Well, our most recent squirrel stopped moving a week or so ago. Now this sign is taped to that same wall.

Maybe it's some annual thing the squirrels have decided to do? Probably not. We have annual things we do, but those are called holidays, and usually involve less mortalities and more celebration, I believe.

Management hasn't come yet. Nor has the stench. Yet.

Coincidentally, I just did a Ghost Tour up in Gettysburg, learning about places haunted by previous inhabitants who died in their homes, on battlefields, etc. I just hope the spirits of the dead squirrels don't permanently haunt the place. This approximates my worst-case scenario:

Yup. You guessed right. The feared Clown-Squirrel.


Happy Monday, all. Good to be back.

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Short Hiatus

RoSA Readers-

Am out for the week sans access to the internets.

See you in a week.

-JD

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Weekly Selects #10

A few ridiculous products to be plugged this week. I feel like I sold out to the home shopping network or something.

-Via Email from Josh M, who found this in SkyMall magazine on a planeride home:

i came across this gem on the airplane

THAT'S RIGHT, my friends! BODY FIGURE ENHANCING PADS! From the ad: "Just place them inside your pants or undergarments to create extra curves instantly...they adapt to body temp and mold to body shape. They stay put even when dancing or exercising."

This is pathetic. Everyone these days wants a quick fix. If you want to put some real curves on (in? What's the proper preposition here?) your butt, I suggest double-fisting donuts every half hour, washing down with undiluted egg nog. Repeat said pattern for at least a two week period, all whilst keeping yourself sedentary by watching every possible Law & Order rerun that NBC and TNT have to offer -- basically what we're going for here is eating like a voracious pregnant lady while slowing your metabolism to a molasses. like. crawl -- and you've got yourself a formula for a figure that will "stay put" in spite of all your "dancing or exercising."

-Via Email from Jay, who I'm convinced is on some private crusade against the Japanese. He likes to send articles describing some ridiculous Japanese product and make me defend them:

Josh,
You need to speak up for your countrymen again...

This particular treasure was a Japanese suit that is resistant to the swine flu. I honestly don't see what there is to defend here. Looking professional while warding off illness? It's not only feasible, it is an act of civil service by stopping a pandemic cold in its tracks.

I think Jay feels the Japanese contribute little to the international community besides ridiculousness -- efficient and technologically-advanced ridiculousness. But ridiculousness, nonetheless.

Look. The Japanese have plenty to offer. How 'bout you consider upon these contributions, Jay: Allowing a warrior class to rule an impoverished peasant class for centuries; sneak attacks that forever live in infamy, escalate world wars, AND further complicate a cliched love-triangle between Kate Beckinsale, Josh Hartnett, and Ben Affleck; beating baby seals; hunting whales to near-extinction; Godzilla. Yo, we own these things, son.

...Actually, on second thought...Let's just stick with the easy answers: Hondas, the Wii, and camera lenses.

-Via Google Reader, just to further emphasize Jay's point. This is a show that tries to make people have the "best" panicked face. Someone should go to jail for this. Is this even funny?



Someone needs to go to jail, methinks.

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Karatist Preacher! -- Photo of the Week 12 Oct 2009

JMill sent me a PDF labeled "The Worst Album Covers Ever." This was one of the many.

Now, God gives all of us many talents, but I think this guy may have been favored a bit:

A preacher that does karate AND has musical talent? My head just exploded.


Happy Columbus Day. Still haven't decided what I'm going to do with my least significant holiday of the year.

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Weekly Selects #9

This week featured a handful. Enjoy

-Via TXT from White Josh; while watching a session of our church's worldwide General Conference in which the speaker, a man of the Asian persuasion, Korean flavor, spoke about some men whom he knew when they were young and "rowdy." After the speaker threw up a picture of them, Josh sent:

That was the aewesomest picture of asian bad a's i have ever seen !!!!!

Don't worry; I hunted down a still capture of the photo:


I need some pleated jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt.

-Via IM with Josh M, when I pointed out that one morning I heard the squirrels that have invaded the walls of our apartment:

you should have captured them and THROWN THEM ON THE GROUND

This, of course, was based on an SNL music video we saw last Saturday. Its connection with coherence, much like Lindsay Lohan and sobriety, is tenuous at best -- in honesty, absolutely non-existent. But I suppose therein lies the hilarity:



Whenever something frustrates me now, I see the object in my mind's eye slamming into the ground in slo-mo. Granted, the slow-motion filming of a squirrel being thrown to the ground would be excessively graphic, like watching a Michael Vick-hosted documentary on the torture methods of the Spanish Inquisition, and would no doubt elicit some sort of inane lawsuit from PETA. At the very least it would get their celebrity spokesmen to strip naked in some form of ineffectual protest.

-Via Email from DougC, whom I wanted to guest blog but is working like a slave and has no time. With regards to an important test results he is awaiting, he petitioned:

Maybe if you have a ancient Japanese ritual you could perform on my behalf it would help...or if nothing else a Mormon-style prayer.

It's rare that someone places enough faith in me to importune my help with something that actually matters, so consider it done, Doug: Incense sticks have been lit, ancestors have been importuned, stomachs have been slit. You get the idea.

-Via Email link from JMill, to this article:

Some dude made a coffee table based on an NES controller -- nerdy, right? Well, dig deeper into the story's goldmine of dweebdom, you'll discover the bonus: The controller is fully functional. This reminds me of back when my old roommates, Jay and Johnny, had a multi-week de facto pissing contest via Contra proxy. They were competing to see who could beat the game in the least amount of time. Good luck entering the 30-life bonus code with this size controller.

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