Tis the Season...

Merry Christmas!

The Bromance is Dead...

On occasion you run across a person who claims to have lived a life without regret. They will throw out a bunch of old clichés like everything happens for a reason, or whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and claim that they would change nothing. I personally don’t believe any of that garbage for a second; though even if I did I certainly would never consider myself one of those people. I’ve done plenty of regrettable things. I mean, I went to college. And I drink, how could I not have. They range from the obvious, major regrets* to the seemingly benign but actually huge regrets**. Sure I learned something valuable from these events and hopefully was able to take something positive out them to better myself, but that doesn’t mean I still don’t wish they never happened.

I say all of this because last night I realized the biggest regret of my life has recently occurred. The opportunity of a lifetime has completely slipped away without my even realizing it. While watching Whitney: From the Hills to the City I saw it, a preview for a new MTV reality show: Bromance with Brody Jenner. Ever since Spencer Pratt went off the deep end and grew that creepy flesh colored beard Brody Jenner has been without a bro. Following in the footsteps of the immortal Paris Hilton*** he’s decided to turn to fill that void. How did I not know about this show? How did I not apply to be on this show? I’ll never forgive myself. Could you imagine the possibilities of being in a bromance with Brody Jenner (I’d call him B Jens, we’d be that tight)? Right now we could be douching it up all over LA. Meeting Lauren Conrad at Les Deux and being total tools. Going over to dad Bruce’s house and pretending we don’t want to bang his stepsister. Getting a suite at the Palms so we could be douchy in Vegas for a weekend. The possibilities are endless and I missed my chance.

I’m going to be crying myself to sleep for weeks over this.




* See: May 2005; Car; Guard rail on North Capitol St.

** I missed a flight the day after Thanksgiving last year and I’m fairly certain that it completely altered the course of my entire life, not in a positive way. But that’s another story for another time. Or probably never, because that’s not how we roll on this blog.

*** If you ever doubt what direction you should be heading in life its generally good advice to just do what Paris Hilton would do.

I see you...

Oh hello. You’re still here? Well you may have noticed that I have written anything in well over a month. I’ve been thinking lately that I should remedy that situation. I know you loyal few who continue checking this blog semi frequently are clamoring for a new post and I want to enrich you life with my amazing wordsmithing*. There is a small dilemma though. If you’re still reading than it safe to assume you’ve read quite a few of my posts. If that is the case then you know that I’m at my best (in the sense that my writing is more amusing for you) when I’m complaining about something, doing something stupid, or just having an overall crappy life. That is my wheelhouse (it’s a gift) and therein lies the problem. My life is awesome right now; I really have nothing to complain about. And let’s face it you guys don’t really want to hear about puppies and unicorns and pissing glitter and shooting rainbows out of my ass. That’s boring**. Even more boring than the other things I write about (if that’s possible). However I think I may have come up with a temporary solution while I ease back onto the blogging horse: my roommate. My roommate regularly says things that are creepy, inappropriate, or just plain weird and I figure why should I keep these things to myself? It seems selfish so I think I’ll occasionally offer up his best material for your enjoyment. Here’s a winner he said last night, mostly unprompted:

“I’m pretty sure I would fuck Zac Effron. He’s prettier than most of the girls I’ve dated.”

See what I mean. You should look forward this.

He also told me that I have a beautiful falsetto. But that’s not weird. That’s just a fact.




*Part of amazing wordsmithing is making up words like wordsmithing.

**On second thought shooting rainbows out of my ass would be pretty exciting, but I can’t actually do that. I was being metaphorical.

Yes We Did

Today I am very proud to be an American, and particularly proud to be a Virginian. Barack Obama ran on a message of hope and right now I am very hopeful. I hope that the results of this election signals a change in the political discourse in this country. I hope that Obama’s victory means that a candidate can no longer use Rovian style scare tactics to create derision, fear, and disconnect to win an election. I hope this means that Americans finally care about what a nominee has to say about important issues and how they intend to solve the countries problems than anything else. And that simply repeating irrelevant half truths and lies to a crowd to get them riled up will no longer work. I hope that calling someone an elitist, socialist, or possible Muslim is not a viable path to the White House anymore. I hope that this election means that people don’t want to hear about a candidate’s vague semi-relationship with possibly unseemly characters; they want to hear how you’re going to fix the economy or health care.

I hope that Kay Hagan’s victory over Elizabeth Dole in the North Carolina Senate race means that being not Christian enough no longer means you’re unfit for office. Hopefully a solid platform of ideas is more important than which church you attend and what God you worship and that being a non-Christian doesn’t mean you are immoral and corrupt in the eyes of Christian voters. Some of the greatest minds in our countries history added the separation of church and state into the constitution for a reason. The gap in that separation has been closing dramatically and I hope that the results of this election start to widen it again.

I hope that once almost universally respected politicians like John McCain and Elizabeth Dole no longer have to lower themselves into the muck to appeal to the lowest common denominator of their base. I hope that intelligent debate can finally prevail over rhetoric aimed at the ignorant.

John McCain gave a gracious and eloquent concession speech last night. It was beautifully moving in its message that serving ones country and a spirit of comprise should take precedence over partisanship. The funny thing about that speech is that had that been his message all along he may have won this election. Instead he ran to the right, unleashed that lunatic Sarah Palin to ignite a base and the rest is history. I hope that the message of his speech takes hold and that he goes back to the Senate to lead that charge. I fear that it will not. Several times throughout his speech McCain had to pause, while talking about the need to work with the new president to make positive change, to let a round of boos die down. At one point a man in the crowd yelled, “You deserved better.” He was absolutely right. John McCain did deserve better. He deserved to not have to lower himself to appeal to a person like that.

Nice to meat you

I came to a fairly sad realization today. Before I tell you what that realization is though let me learn you a little bit about myself (I know you don’t care, but trust me, it’s relevant).

Eric Fact #1

I’m lazy. Like most people, I like to do as little as humanly possible and still remain a productive member of society. I often fail at that task. And I don’t mean failing at doing as little as possible, I mean I’m often not a productive member of society.

Eric Fact #2

I don’t like to waste any time. Well, that’s not entirely true. I waste a ton of time, how can you not when the internet exists. What I should say is I’m very selective as to what time is appropriate to waste and what time is more useful. For example, time can not be wasted in the morning before work. My alarm clock is to the exact amount of time I need to get out of bed (immediately, snooze buttons are for the weak), shower, get dressed, and go straight to work on time. I don’t understand how people can relax read the newspaper and eat breakfast when they have the horror of an entire workday hanging over there heads. To me the time after work is much more productive, and at the same time more relaxing, than time after work so the sooner one gets to work the sooner they get to leave and enjoy their day.

Eric Fact #3

At times I spend money recklessly. Here’s the terrible part of that, I rarely spend recklessly on cool things. I always find myself in a situation where I think to myself, man I would love to buy this awesome sweater, or perhaps a new iPod, but I’ve spent like $700 on food this month (that includes beer also, I just wanted to mention that so it would seem less ridiculous).

Based on fact #3 I recently decided it was time to make a lifestyle change. In order to guiltlessly purchase things I need, like bedroom furniture (a Wii?) or some new clothes for work (Guitar Hero?) I’ve been eating lunch at work everyday and cooking dinner at home. It’s worked out great, I save tons of money. But here is where facts #1 and #2 come into play. I’m far too lazy, and consider it a huge waste of time, to make lunch in the morning before work. My solution is to go to the grocery store by the office and stock up on groceries that I can leave here and prepare lunch daily in the office. It’s really a great solution but it allows me to not only save a few dollars a day, but also time spent preparing food at work is time spent not working. So win-win for me.

All of this is an extremely round about way of coming to the sad realization I alluded to earlier. Here it is:

The most important decision I make all week is based around which lunch meat I’m going to buy for my sandwiches.

I know you’re thinking this sounds trivial, but I’m not sure that I can understate the importance of this decision. If I’m going to eat the same sandwich no less than 4 days out of the week it better be a damn good sandwich. Nothing can ruin a mood more than an entire weeks worth of bad lunches. Trust me; you did not want to be around for the roast beef fiasco of October 13-17. It wasn’t pretty.

Although now that I think about it, if the biggest aspect of your life is making a decision between turkey, ham, or corned beef it could be construed as sad, or it might say that you have an awesome life. I’m going to go with the later. Mostly because I have a glass half full kind of attitude today. Why am I in that chipper state of mind? Because I went with pastrami for this week and it was delicious.

The 2nd Debate...

So I'm watching the debate right now. I don't have much I want to say about what the candidates are saying because I doubt anyone reading this cares about my politics, but I will say this: Tom Brokaw, shut the fuck up. This is sort of important, let them talk for Christ's sake. There is pretty big decision coming up in a few weeks and we kind of want to hear what they have to say. Who cares if they go over a minute. Dammit.

How Did This Happen?

I don't eat very much. I'm skinny and I have a small appetite. I don't know if I'm skinny because I my lack of an appetite or the appetite develop because I'm so skinny. It's the chicken and the egg and all that crap, the point is, I don't eat very much. Sometimes I don't finish dinner because I simply get bored. All the cutting and chewing and sitting up straight is just not worth it when I could be relaxing and not moving. Occasionally I skip dinner all together because I ate a late lunch. This is why the following list is so perplexing to me:

A Complete List of the Food I've Eaten in the Last 28 Hours

2 Nature Valley Bars
2 packs of Oreo Cookies
2 Ham and Cheese sandwiches
Half a bag of Utz Kettle Cooked potato chips
Half block cheese (with crackers)
3 pieces of pizza
1 everything bagel
1 16-20 rib eye steak
Mashed potatoes
Corn

This may not sound like that much to some, but it's a veritable binge for me. I've been trying to figure why I'm so hungry lately and I can only come to one logical solution. I'm pregnant. A few months ago I wouldn't have thought it possible, me being a man and all, but then that one dude (you all know who I'm talking about, I don't feeling like finding a link to the story) got knocked up and everything changed. Expect to see me on Oprah in the very near future.

Vacaton...

I just got back from vacation late last night. A week where the entire day consisted of relaxing on the beach, then going back the house and relaxing by the pool, then relaxing in the hottub at night.

I took today off just to keep the relaxation going before going back to work next week.

So what do I wake up to at 8 in the morning?

A jackhammer. Right outside of my window.

I hate you Baltimore. I hate you so much.

Thoughts...

- I saw a homeless man reading the newspaper this morning. I thought it was nice that he was keeping up on current events, but I was really curious as to what he might be reading so I decided to ease in for a closer look (I'm like a ninja). He was reading the stock market report. I've said this before, I'm not really sure what irony is, but I think a homeless man check stock prices qualifies as ironic.

Although, maybe he wasn't a homeless man. Maybe he was just a really dirty broker. I shouldn't presuppose that someone is homeless simply because they're filthy and sitting on the sidewalk. They could just be a hippy.


- We have a new neighbor. My roommate met her first and this was his description: a hot, blond, australian girl who just graduated college. I know, sounds pretty awesome right? Well, I met her on Saturday night.

She's from Florida. That totally ruins it.

Moral of the story: My roommate can't tell the difference between a southern accent and an Australian accent. And he's an idiot.


- Yesterday I played Guitar Hero for the first time. I'm terrible at it. I feel like this makes me more and less cool at the same time.

This is the headline for today's featured story on Yahoo!:

Even Paris Hilton has fallen prey?! Holy shit, we're all screwed! Oh wait, she's an idiot. We're fine.

A brief foray into politics...

I don't really get into to politics very much. Well, I don't talk about it on my blog anyway. I doubt many people care about my opinion on most matters, mainly because I'm generally ill informed. But I would like to just throw something out there. Sarah Palin's children are named Track, Bristol, Willow, Piper, and Trig. I could be wrong about this, but I believe her husband is eskimo, and maybe these names have something to do with that. I'll claim ignorance on that. But if that's not the case I don't think I could ever vote for someone who gives their children such terrible names. I'm just saying.

Trig? Really?

Who knows maybe she's just a former sprinter who loves ESPN (or NASCAR), Val Kilmer movies costarring midgets, the pan flute, and triangles.

I have a group of friends who love to read my blog. They ask me about it all the time. When they bring it up it's always in a semi mocking tone as if they think it's super lame. But secretly I know they love it because they check it every day. I'm on to you guys, just so you know.

Anyway, since I how much they enjoy my awesome musings on life, and pretty much everything about my blog in general, I know they'll be super pumped about this. I would like to congratulate Brent on being the 25,000 visitor to I'll Think of Something. You're sort of famous now so enjoy it.

A List...

A Partial List of Dead Animals That I Have Been Close Enough To In the Last Week to Catch a Horrible Disease

1. Squirrel (s)
2. Bat
3. Deer*
4. Large Bird**
5. Bat
6. Groundhog***
7. Small Bird****
8. Cat
9. Human? *****
10. Orange mystery animal ******


* It was only a deer leg. I don't want to know what happened to the rest of it.

** I think it was an eagle. My coworker disagrees. Probably because he hates America.

*** Or woodchuck if you prefer.

**** Baby eagle?

***** It was just a bone, but it looked eerily like an arm bone.

****** It was long and skinny. Sort of ferrittish, but to big. It could have been one of these. Which would have been sad, because they're cute. And not native to Pennsylvania.

Day 2...

As I was driving further north into Pennsylvania I got to thinking more about creepy guys eye flirting thing, and then I figure it all out. I think this son of a bitch is trying to kidnap me and take me on a romantic weekend getaway in the Poconos. Luckily I'm on to him so I'm going to have some sort of shank ready at all times to repel his advances.

Right now we're just outside of Scranton, PA. I'm pretty big into agrotourism so I'm going to try and book the irrigation room at the Schrute Farms B&B.

And that is the last "The Office" joke I'll make. I've been so excited just to be near Scranton that I've been making them all day and it's annoying people.

All right, gotta go. I'm meeting Jim and Pam at Poor Richard's to see Scrantonicity. Peace.

Day 1...

Well, I learned what I was doing up here and it's even more boring than I could have imagined. I'm here to inspect all of the retaining walls on the northeast connector of the Pennsylvania Turnpike. I know it sounds awesome, but trust me, it's not.

I learned something else also. The Days Inn in Horsham, PA is a terrible, terrible place. You know your hotel stay is off to a bad start you go into your room and neither of the beds are made and all the towels are used. You might think that would make you feel at home. It doesn't. It's gross. Their continental breakfast better be amazing to make up for this.

The creepy guy isn't even doing anything interesting. He just chain smokes. And tells the same stories over and over again everytime he meets someone new. Even though the people he just told the story to are still standing there. And his eyes flutter when he talks. It's weird. I think he's trying to seduce me. Only his method of seduction is the one Bugs Bunny used on Elmer Fudd when he would cross dress in Loony Tunes cartoons.

So if you happen to be driving between Philadelphia and Scranton any time over the next two weeks and you see a two guys staring at a wall, one of whom appears to be hating his life, stop and say hello. Or run me over with your car. Your choice.

This could suck...

For the next two weeks I'll will be inspecting various structures throughout Pennsylvania. I don't know where, wish is disconcerting, but I do know that I'll be doing it with the single creepiest guy in my company. Since I'll be spending most of the time in a hotel room alone trying not to interact with this guy I might as well chronicle my days. It could be hilarious. It could be the most boring series of blogs posts in history. Stay tuned to find out.

The Olympics are awesome

I’ve watched approximately 9,000 hours of the Olympics since they started last weekend. I have a few random thoughts I’d like to share.

- I don’t get synchronized diving. I don’t really have a joke here, I just don’t get it. Synchronized swimming makes sense to me, it’s not a sport, but I understand the need for synchronization. Without it it’s just someone flailing around in a pool, which could give the appearance of drowning. But diving is already a sport, a difficult one, and it doesn’t seem as if any extra skill is needed for synchronized diving. You’re just doing the same dive you would have done by yourself with someone right next to you.

- Alicia Sacramone has inordinately large boobs for a gymnast.

- I want to play team handball. It’s awesome. Not only do I think I’d be good at it, but America does not have a representative in this Olympics because there aren’t enough athletes to field a quality team. Hello London 2012.

- I cannot reveal my sources, but I have access to Michael Phelps’ cell phone number. I think I might send him a couple of text messages. Not so much to congratulate him, everyone’s doing that, but more to make fun of his ears. And mouth. I don’t want him to get a big head after all the gold medals. Or maybe I should send congratulations in hopes that I could get Natalie Coughlin’s number from him.

On the Prowl

This is a Washington Post headline this morning:

Cougar Reportedly Seen on U-Md. Campus

The story is not at all what I hoped it would be about.

The Genius of Lou Brown

I'm a little off my game today. Kind of tired. It's probably because last night, while flipping through the channels falling asleep, I caught Major League just as it started. Everyone has a stable of movies that they always watch. It doesn't really matter where the movie is when you turn it on, you're always going to watch it until the end.*

*This theory explains why I can recite nearly every line of Braveheart. I seen it approximately 400 times, never in it's entirety though. And since I know you were wondering, my favorite line in the movie is when Longshanks is discussing instituting the right of prima nocta and he says, "the trouble with Scotland is that it's full of Scots." That gets me every time. Not because the jokes is funny, but because all of his cronies laugh like he just said the greatest thing ever. Cracks me up. Also I plan on having several kids and naming the oldest one Argyle so that when they have kids they'll call him Uncle Argyle. That's a badass name. Hopefully my future grandchildren will have Scottish accents.

Anyway, Major League is one of those movies. I love it. Easily one of the top three baseball movies of all time (the three obviously being Bull Durham, Field of Dreams and that. I was trying to decide the order and as luck would have it Bull Durham was on this weekend and I'm ready to say that it is definitely number 3, and Field of Dreams is number 1. Because it makes me cry.), so I almost always watch it until the end. Well this time I got to think about something that had never occured to me before, and it sort of bothered me. Not enough to make me stop loving the movie, but bothered me none the less.

Do you really mean to tell me, that in spring training when the Cleveland Indians were putting the team together and teaching everyone the signals that they actually had a signal for: Call your shot so that the pitcher will throw up and in and knock you down with a fastball, then on the second pitch after the sign the runner on second will steal, you lay down a bunt surprising the infielder who is playing deep, when the infielder charges, the runner (who was attempting to steal third) will never stop running, and hopefully score because of the throw to first. Call me crazy, but it seems a little ambitious to presume that all of that would happen as planned often enough to actually have a sign for that play.

This is starting to get out of control

On my way to work this morning I saw a girl sending a text message. While jogging. What could possibly be so important that it couldn't wait until after your workout, but not important enough that you would actually STOP RUNNING long enough to type out a message?

I was rooting pretty hard for her to trip on some uneven pavement. It didn't happen, but I'm happy with the knowledge that it eventually will.

Happy Bastille Day!

Hey check that out. That's almost a politcial statement. I'm so controversial.

This is how I would write if I had talent...

I thought this post was awesome.

Bromance

I know I haven't posted anything in over a month, and I doubt many people even still look at this. Also I know it's weak to do a come back post that is just a link to a "news" story, but, baby steps you know. There are some things that just make me weep for our society. This is one of them. I kind of want to just dig a hole and stay in it until all this mess blows over.

I'm Having A Shitty Day...

...no seriously, a bird shit on me on my way to lunch today. I had to walk 10 minutes with a huge pigeon turd on my arm before I could wash it off. You're piling it on these days aren't you God, frankly it's just getting mean.

When did I turn into Charlie Brown? ARGH.

Stop Being a Loser

Just for fun, lets see how many different ways spam can try and sell me penis enlargement drugs. To the gmail spam folder:

Get hung like no one else
We invite you to the world of happiness
Order today and receive herbal tomorrow
Causing an erection
Forget about your bad experience in love
Don’t let her leave discontented
Your new proportion will keep her satisfied
Love me longer love me harder
Blood flow to the penis
Time for P5NIS Extension
Sublime measure can be achieved fast
Make your thing as big as life
Reach deeper into her
Stop being a loser
Fast and safe male enhancement
Guaranteed size increase for all products
Attract more hot women
Allow your rod elongate
Increase its length 2-3 inches
Extend the length and width fast

And that's just going back to Monday. In case you were wondering "stop being a loser" is in fact my favorite. It's harder to argue with that.

Eric's Music Review

I actually wore a tie to work today, for the first time in months. You may not quite grasp the significance of this. My wearing a tie means that, for the first time in almost 10 weeks, I am completely confident in the fact that I will not have to go outside to inspect a bridge today. It's a great feeling. I feel white collar again. Finally I can go back looking down on those less fortunate than myself. It's fantastic. Thank you tie, you're so gloriously restricting and yet uplifting at the same time.

I know what you're thinking, Eric, you're uncharacteristically upbeat about this. I don't recognize your blog without all the complaining. Well I saved a complaint just for you, the weather the last few days has been magnificent. I might even go as far as to say it's splendorous. That's right, splendorous. So I had the pleasure of spending the last bitter, frigid months of winter outside and as soon as the weather turns I'm back at my desk. I hate my life sometimes.

Speaking things that make me hate life, I was listening to Yahoo! radio this morning when I heard a song from Scarlett Johansson's as yet unreleased new album. Why do actors and other "celebrities" feel the need to make albums? Is it boredom? Is the club scene not doing an adequite job of filling her time between shitty Woody Allen movies? I feel like the best case scenario is that you thoroughly embarass yourself but at least you get publicity out of the whole mess (I'm looking in your direction Hiedi)? Also her album just seems lazy, it's like 10 Tom Waites covers. I don't particularly care for Tom Waites, but would even a Tom Waites fan want to hear Scarlett attempts at his music? Who's the fan base for this album? I will give her some credit though, at least had the good sense to just copy someone who critics already like instead of going the Lohan, Duff, Hilton route of putting out a bunch of awful pop songs. It's already working, New York Magazine called it the "best-ever album by an actor" and described her voice as "Nico, if Nico weren't a Germanic death angel but the remaining American actress of her age who has not openly displayed her vagina." I have absolutely no idea what that means but I guess that's why I'm not a pretentious rock critic for New York Magazine (they would never wear ties to work). I do agree though that not showing your vagina to the papparazzi gives you more street cred on the rock scene. Or is it the opposite? Anyway, to me her voice sounded like Annie Lennox getting punched in the balls*.




*Fact: Annie Lennox has balls.

Oh....Hey

I've been hearing a few grumblings lately about my lack of blogging. People are voicing their displeasure. I can explain. Bridge inspections are sucking the life out of me. Lets break down the numbers shall we. There are 168 hours in a week. A conservative estimate says I'm work around 60 hours a week. Admittedly not a super human effort but it can be a bit draining when you're freezing everyday and there is a never ending mist clinging to you everywhere you go. Incidentally, has anyone seen the sun lately, I miss it. I know it was nice on Saturday but I spent the majority of that day inside of a 4' tall box girder hunching over trying to avoiding stepping on dead birds. Anyway, back to the numbers. So lets say I sleep 49 hours a week (probably an overestimation but whatever.) So between work and sleep I'm down to 59 hours in a week. It takes me 20 minutes to get to and from work everyday, that's 2 hours. 5 or so hours a week spent getting ready for work (showering, dressing, making lunch, blah, blah, blah.) I try to spend at least 5 hours a week at the gym. About 7 hours a week are spent preparing and eating meals. Between various other commitments and miscellaneous bs I'd say I have about 2 hours a day where I'm free to do whatever I want. What I more often than not don't want to do with that time is blog. I like to just kind of zone out and think about how my life sucks and summon the will to not jump off of a bridge the next day. It's a theraputic time. On top of that my laptop crapped out a few days ago so I don't even have a computer at home to blog with (when it rains it pours...on my head while I'm outside looking at bridges). The unfortunate part is my funniest posts are when I'm bitching about things not going my way. The last 6 or 7 are right in my wheelhouse and I can't even use the material. Well it's all over in another month or so and then I'll be back to blogging, bear with me. Unfortunately (or fortunately for me) my posts will be lame since I'll be in a good mood, between not having to work outside and spending the hundreds of hours of overtime pay I'm currently earning I'll be positively giddy, which is boring for this blog. You poor readers just can't win.

Tourney Time

People love college sports. They love it for any number of reasons. The purity of the sport, the passion, athletes giving it everything they have simply for the love of the game. All those great cliches. But what is at the heart of it all? What is the essence of what makes the college game so great? Gambling, that's what.

• Fact: Over 200 billion brackets were filled out last week for the NCAA Tournament.*


• Fact: I love gambling.**

Since I love gambling and this is the single greatest gambling weekend of the year I needed to fully immerse myself. I took Friday off for 32 games and at least 30 hours of college basketball. It was going to awesome. It was a complete disaster. I've never seen anything like it. Just dagger after dagger. It was brutal. Let's start with the brackets, here are the two I have money on:

The are both a mess, but the second one is really horrible. USC. What was I thinking? Who's USC's favorite player? OJ Mayo. What's my least favorite food ever. Mayonaisse. I would I pick a team centered around the worst condiment in the world for the Final Four. No matter how delicious orange juice is it does not counteract the disgustingness of Mayo. I should know better than that. But it got worse when I started betting on individual games. I lost 19 of 25 bets. I wasn't even sure that was mathematically possible. Here are a few examples of a typical bet for me this weekend:

• Butler against Tennessee. I parlayed Butler +4.5 and the over (140). Butler is down by 3, with the ball, with less than 15 seconds left. Pretty much a lock. There are three realistic scenarios normally, Butler makes a two, a three at the buzzer, or miss a shot as time runs out. Either way I win. What happens? Butler misses a shot with less than three seconds, Tennessee rebounds. Game over, I win. Oops, Butler commits a pointless foul when the game is essentially over, Tennessee hits two free throws, wins by 5, I lose. Dammit.
• I have Clemson at -6. They're winning by 19 in the second half and still manage to pull defeat from the jaws of victory.
• Oregon +2.5. Up by 12 late in the second half, they lost by 7. Welcome to my life.

Fortunately I don't technically have a "gambling problem". I only lost $100, but still what a bunch of crap. I hate college basketball.

*Not an actual fact

**Actual fact

Mustache Day

Hey. Happy Mustache Day! It's a very exciting day for me, this is easily my best mustache ever. I look like I'm heading to bike week. Or a Village People concert. Either way it looks awesome. Go here and vote for the best mustache.

TWSSF

I wish I had something I could tell you guys. Some excuse I could give you as to why you've been deprived of That's What She Said Friday for the last few weeks but there isn't. I can lie to you guys. Truth is I just didn't feel like it. As you all know I'm very lazy, but I'm back. This week I'll turn it over to McSweeney's, becuase they're much funnier than myself. Check it out.

Beating a Dead Horse

Let's talk about the most interesting of subjects: the weather. Here's a brief description of the conditions yesterday:

Not under a bridge:

Mostly sunny, temperature's in the low 60's with a light breeze. A beautiful day if there ever was one.

Under a bridge:

Dark, frigid, gale force winds.

The section of 395 I was working under yesterday happen to run alongside a small park in Federal Hill. I was wearing four layers of shirt, gloves, and a winter hat and was freezing my ass off. 50 yards away was a guy playing tennis in shorts and a t-shirt. And to think I used enjoy shade. If I was a little closer I would have thrown one of the chunks of concrete falling from the bridge* at him because I was so bitter about his carefree, whimsical lifestyle. Seriously, who's playing tennis at noon on a Wednesday and where do I sign up?

Fortunately I'm back in the office for the rest of the week. For all those who find themselves complaining about rotting away in a cubicle working for the man for the rest of thier lives, cherish it, if not you could find yourself stuck in the bucket of a lift truck 80 feet in the air when the controls stop working and you have to hang out for like 45 minutes until someone can come and get you down. It's a harrowing experience.

*One of the few fun things about this job is knocking concrete off of a bridge. I've probably knocked a solid 50 square feet of failing concrete off of the various bridges of Interstate 395 so far. Enjoy that fact next time your driving into town for an Orioles game. Don't worry, it's still structuraly sound. Or is it?

Spreading the Word

This one is for the dozens of people who found my blog via Google searching for certain information on a serious subject only to be left very, very dissappointed: yes Patrick Swayze does have pancreatic cancer. Here's a real story about it. Sorry my love of She's Like the Wind lead you here instead of what you were actually searching for.

Whining

Nine hours, under a bridge, in a bucket truck, in the rain. Not good times. Not good times at all. If anyone knows any Steven Seagal type moves feel free to use them on me. I'm all for a broken ulna right now. Seriously, this is day three of 65. I don't think I'm going to pull through. At the risk of sounding ultra pretentious, I'm pretty certain the reason I went to college is to avoid jobs like this. I'm upset.

I'm growing a beard. It just seems appropriate for the situation. I'm like Ron Burgundy right now. The difference being that my glass case of emotion is actually a big, white, plastic bucket. On the bright side, it will be in the low 30's tomorrow, so milk will actually be a great choice.

Sking

Skiing is hard. Skiing is hard and dangerous. Therefore, skiing is perfect. Thanks to an ingenious plan hatched by Kim in the comment section of my last post I had finally hatched a way out of bridge inspections for the next three months. Having never skied before, hurtling down a mountain on a sheet of ice was a sure fire way for me to sustain an injury serious enough to keep me confined to my awesome desk with my work bff, the internet. Everything was set up perfectly. We had a sweet house on the lake, everyone was having a great time, I got pretty drunk the night before so the hangover was throwing my ski game off a little bit. Even my right boot was too small resulting in intense arch pain most of the day. I was certain to fly off the side of a mountain and break a bone. It was going to be awesome. There’s only one thing that wasn’t factored in, my superior athleticism. I forgot that I’m money at most things I try*. I had a rough start but by the end of the day I was kicking ass. Skiing is totally easy, it was really a forgone conclusion. Dammit, I can’t even suck at something right. I was pissed. And you’re reading comprehension is not off, I’m might be the only person you’ll ever here express disappointment in not breaking a bone. Now I have to work outside dodging pigeon shit for the next three months. It’s going to suck.

This creates an interesting anomaly that is my life, my friends were kind of enough to point this out for me. How is it that I’m pretty good at most everything I try, and yet suck at life as a whole? Is that even possible? Apparently it is.

There is one great thing that came out the weekend. Most of the car ride up, because I’m super arrogant, I keep telling everyone how easy skiing is and how awesome I was going to be. It got to the point were a lot of people were eagerly anticipating see me fail. They would’ve taken a lot of pleasure in watching me fall on my ass all day. They were pretty pissed I was good. It was great. It almost made pigeon turds and sucking at life tolerable for a few hours.



*Except golf. Golf confounds me. Why is it that I can (could) hit a ball hurled at me at 80-90 mph but I can’t hit a stationary one sitting right in front of me? It might be the most frustrating thing I’ve ever experienced. I’ve been to a driving range 3 times. My best golf shot ever, one of the few times I’ve actually made solid contact, was when I threw a ball up in the air and swung away. I suck at golf. It’s killing my ass kissing ability with my bosses.

Oh hey

I know what you’re saying right now: Eric, you’re blog sucks, you haven’t written anything in weeks. I know, I apologize. I can’t really argue that fact. Only, I will. Watch this.

What do you want from me? Am I the only one that realizes this is the absolute worst time of year? Football’s over, baseball hasn’t started yet, and college basketball is in the boring part of the season. Writers have been on strike for the last three months so there’s nothing on TV. The weather is too bad to do anything outside. Basically there is absolutely nothing going on in my life. Unless you want to hear about a trip to the gym, the 50,000th (and probably worst) recap of Lost on the internet, or a random drunken Saturday night, I got nothin’. I can’t even write about the nights out because to be honest I haven’t remembered the last few (perhaps I could turn this into some sort of self help blog, I may have a drinking problem. Would that be something you’d enjoy?). Here are the two most interesting things that happened to me so far this week:

• I was riding to work the other day and passed a Tahoe or Suburban or something pimped out with the usual accoutrements: 24” rims, tinted windows, something thuggish written on the back windshield in calligraphy, and a loud, rattling stereo system. Pretty standard stuff, only their musical choice threw me off. They were blaring polka. And the guys inside were really pumped about it, they love the ole squeeze box.

• I had a Jolly Rancher stuck to one of my back teeth for a solid 45 minutes to an hour yesterday afternoon. Which actually isn’t interesting at all except for paradox of feelings it caused. It is both infuriating and delicious at the same time. Weird.

Don’t worry though, loyal readers, there is a lot more adventure on the horizon. Tomorrow I have to leave the office for the next two months for bridge inspections, which is going to suck. Working outdoors isn’t really my thing, especially in February. Also I’m going skiing for the first time in my life this weekend. Despite being a spectacular athlete I’m pretty clumsy (Another paradox? Am I using that word right?) The combination of me hanging in a bucket 85 feet over a river and me hurtling down mountains increases my chances of serious bodily harm and/or death exponentially. So I think I might have a story or two to tell soon.

Celebrities are A Holes

I may or may not have heard a few good TWSS said jokes this week. I really can't remember. I been in a drug induced haze for the last 4 days because something vaguely fluish and things are foggy. As a result I will be forgoing That's What She Said Friday, instead enjoy this video of Chris Berman being a total dick (NSFW, Boomer has a potty mouth). In case you've been wondering what it's like to play baseball at a certain university in Washington, DC (and I know you have), you're in luck because in this video Berman is practically channeling the coach. It's eery.




Thanks Val

Reasons Why Tennis is Awesome...

There's really only one reason why tennis is awesome. I awoke early Saturday morning kind of hungover. While lying in bed channel surfing I came upon the women's Australian Open, and the only reason to watch tennis on television. Because the finals in a Grand Slam tournament can consist of the following matchup:

Ana Ivanovic v. Maria Sharapova

It was a great match. Needless to say, I was riveted.

RPTWSSF

Reader Participation That's What She Said Friday was a rousing success last week! Ok mild success. No? Not even that? Well I don't care, we're doing it again. Here it is, try and figure out what I was talking about:

Me: It was right on the tip of my tongue but it's not coming, I'm going to have to go with something else
Matt: That's what she said.


Have at it. A challenge to my friends (I'm looking at you in particular Mike, Baha, and Wendy) no BJ jokes.

Blah Blah Blah

By now I'm sure everyone has heard the nonstory about Tom Brady's pretend ankle injury. Half of New England had a stroke Monday when TMZ released some pictures of him in a walking boot on the way to Gisele's with some flowers and pastries. Turns out it's nothing. Shocker. Anyway, in that regard I decided to write a post about Tom Brady. I had it written in my head. It was funny. It was going to be all blah blah blah I'm Tom Brady, I'm the best quarterback ever, and I bring my supermodel girlfriend flowers when I visit, and I thwart terrorist attacks with my steely gaze blah blah blah. Ok maybe it wasn't that funny but whatever, thats not the point. The point is it was all written (in my head, which counts) and I couldn't find the damn picture. I searched everywhere. And by everywhere I mean I spent 3 minutes on Google (Ed. note: I'm lazy* and don't try hard).

For some reason my inability to find this picture really pissed me off. I realized I'm in one of those whiny, self pitying, everything sucks and I hate you kind of moods. It's weird, I'm not in a bad mood. I'm actually in a pretty good mood but at the same time have a hard time fighting the urge to say fuck a lot. I guess on edge would be the best way to describe it. You know the feeling, you're going along with your day, everythings great, you're smiling, then you pump your knee on a chair and want to blow up a Starbucks. Anywho, as a result of my setback I decided to scrap the Tom Brady post. I do have one question though. The Cowboys had two weeks off before their first playoff game. Wade Phillips gave the team the first weekend off and Tony Romo chose to spend that weekend at the beach with his girlfriend. Because that girlfriend is Jessica Simpson some pictures came out and the media had a shit fit. According to sportswriters (who are mostly idiots) he showed a lack of committment to the team, he didn't care about winning, he wasn't preparing the way he should. He was being crucified for going to the beach. So here's my question: Tom Brady got the same weekend off two weeks before the Super Bowl. He chose to spend that time in New York with his famous girlfriend. The trip from Dallas to Cabo is not that much longer than the trip from Boston to New York, how come there isn't a huge uproar about Brady the way their was about Romo?



* Here's a fun anecdote regarding my laziness: I got dressed for work this morning and realized my shirt still has the telltale creases of a newly purchased shirt. I think this is only the second time I've worn the shirt so I guess that somewhat explains that. The only thing is, I got this shirt for Christmas. Two years ago. How have I not ironed out the creases, or at least taken it to a dry cleaner.

TWSSF

What's up mofos? So everyone loves That's What She Said Friday right? I know I do. But really how often can you turn benign conversation into sexual innuendo? Forever I think, but it still gets a tad repetitive. That's why I adding a twist this week. You guys have been sitting on my fastball to long, it's time to mix in a changeup. That's why this week is Reader Participation That's What She Said Friday. Or RPTWSSF for short. Instead of setting the scene then revealing the conversation I'm just going to tell you the joke, and then if you like fun you can guess what I'm talking about in the comments section. Sounds awesome right? No? Well humor me. Here goes:

Me: I kind of like that I can just stick it in for 5-10 minutes and forget about it until its done.
Aaron: That's what she said

What the heck am I talking about?! Crazy. Have fun

Answer to come whenever I feel like it.

TWSSF

Doesn't the first full week back after the holidays also seem soooo long? It's excruciating. Really I could get used to 3 and 4 day work weeks. How can I arrange that? Until then I can think of only one thing that can make then long week feel a little shorter, the triumphant return of That's What She Said Friday! Here goes:

My roommate Aaron works for Enterprise Rent-A-Car. Apparently now they offer navigation systems to people renting from them, the removable kind that you suction cup to the windshield. For liability purposes employees are not allowed to physically install the GPS for the driver. Which makes sense because could you really put it past someone blaming a little box in their windshield for driving their car off of a bridge of something (or driving into a lake a la Micheal Scott). I wouldn't, this is America after all. Anyway, one of my roommates employees was demonstrating how to install it to a customer when he said this:

Random enterprise employee: I'm going to put it in for you to show you how it's done, but then I'm going to take it out and you can stick it anywhere you feel comfortable.

Aaron: (in his head because he has to pretend to be professional around customers at work) That's what she said.

Here are some emails I received this week:

From Mike:

I joined a dodge ball team. There are two types of balls, 4 small multicolored balls and 2 larger red balls. From last night:

Guy On My Team (yelling from the court as the last person facing 3 people from the other team): I like the big red balls!

Me (yelling from the sideline): That's what she said!

Next from Jason via Brittany:

So, I put a song on from my Ipod for Dell and after it played for a little I turned down the volume. She continued to sing the song so I said to her “I can keep it up if you want” and then our admin Sue said “That’s what she said”

Keep in mind that Britt just started working there two weeks ago, and Sue is 60 years old.

How You Know People Have Run Out of Ideas

The summer after I graduated college I moved to the beach with some friends. Near our house was a karaoke bar. One night when a few friends were in town and they went over there and happened to witness the single greatest karaoke performance of all time. That's not hyperbole either, it's a fact. Unprompted, a bartender hopped over the bar to perform "She's Like the Wind" by Patrick Swayze. The key word to that sentence is perform, he didn't just stand rigidly on a stage and read lyrics from a prompter. He worked the crowd, really crooning to the ladies. I'm pretty sure this guy was a comedic genius. He chose the most perfectly awful, somewhat obscure but still well known cheesy 80's ballad and sang it with a totally straight face. You know how amazing I think this story is? I wasn't even there, but I still feel the need to tell it becuse it's so great. I was at work, I didn't hear it until the next day at the beach and I'm pretty sure I laughed for a solid 2 hours. I love it so much I've made this my go to karaoke performance, the highlight of my singing career being my epic serenade of Rachel at the Dubliner Christmas party in 2003. It sounds like I'm stealing someone elses idea, but I consider it an homage. I'm like a tribute band. Essentially I'm doing karaoke of a guy doing karaoke to Patrick Swayze.

As a result of this I now love "She's Like the Wind". It really is an amazing song. How can something be so awful and yet so awesome at the same time. It's a paradox. So imagine my surprise when I was at the gym last night and heard a remake of the song. For real. Someone actually thought to themselves, "I think I'll redo that song from Dirty Dancing the Patrick Swayze did. Only I'll add some rapping and a cool beat." This seems like a bad idea to me but apparently not to other people. You decide.

Who Am I?

Shame is an emotion that is foreign to no one. There are moments in everyone’s life that they regret. Things that embarrass you, which you hope no one finds out about. You look at yourself in the mirror and can’t meet your own gaze. You think to yourself, is this really the direction my life has turned, has it really come to this. These are the things I was going through last night while watching 2 hours of the new American Gladiators. Who am I? I’m better than this right? Apparently not. I just had to check it out; I loved American Gladiators as a kid and wanted to see if the newer version measured up. It did not. While watching the latest rendition of the show I recalled that American Gladiators was originally aired on Saturday mornings, meaning it was aimed at children and professional wrestling fans, neither of which applies me anymore (although some might argue that I am in fact still a child, at least emotionally). The question though is how you can actually get worse than this:



Basically the show is nearly identical to the original, with a few added wrinkles. Like water! And fire (but only from a safe distance)! Awesome. Also there is a new game where gladiators throw 100 lb. Nerf balls at contestants trying to run across a bridge. Just like in ancient Rome! The worst part about the show now though is all the trash talk. They tried to give it more hard edge by interviewing the contestants before and after every competition to let them talk smack to each other and the gladiators and it’s simply brutal. There is a very small percentage of the population that can talk trash and sound cool. None of them were on this show. They just sound like jackasses and it makes me cringe every time someone opens their mouth. Oh and if there is only a very small percentage of people who can successfully trash talk, than a very small percentage of that very small percentage are women. It’s just not in their DNA. Its science look it up. Next they mic’ed the Gladiators, which was just a horrible idea. If I wanted to hear meatheads grunting out stupid comments I’d spend more time at the gym. I’m not interested in hearing Titan wax poetic on is chances of tossing a 140 lb. asian man off of a 40 ft. foam pyramid. One more thing, Hulk Hogan and Laila Ali, you are no Mike Adamle and Larry Csonka.

Having said all that though, I think I might be hooked. It happened shortly into the second hour of competition. The first appearance of Hellga (not a typo) the fat gladiator. Hold on, let change that to Hellga the Fat Gladiator. From now on that’s her proper name on this blog. She was completely hapless and I loved every second of it. They stuck her at the end of the Gauntlet, I’m certain with the idea that after having three other gladiators pounding on the contestants with giant foam sticks their fatigue would balance out Hellga the Fat Gladiators shortcomings. Those being lack of lateral movement and overall athletic ability. Their plan failed. After struggling through Crush, Fury, and Stealth the contestant reached Helga the Fat Gladiator and zoomed by untouched as she failed desperately. They’re running between two walls maybe 10 feet apart and without even putting any kind of move on her the contestant just ran right by without even a tap from Hellga’s foam covered hands. The second contestant chose a different approached. She just powered right through Hellga, which you’d think given her girth would be a difficult task but apparently not. I loved outfit too; everyone else is wearing the tightest spandex imaginable to show off their physique, but she’s wearing a skirt. Which I’m sure together with the pigtails and the name is meant to infer some sort of Bavarian ancestry but I’m not buying it, I’m pretty sure is to cover up her ass. Needless to say I’ll probably tune in again just hoping for a Hellga appearance. I think that alone would be worth it. Well that and quotes like this from one of the contestants, “I was just trying to grab any extremity I could and hold on as long as possible.”

That’s what she said.

Redskins

I know it's Friday and you guys all probably want to read some juvenile humor but I going to have to skip it this week. I can't concentrate. There isn't much that gets me more pumped up than the NFL playoffs and considering how bad the Redskins have been for the last decade or so I'm extra fired up. My coworkers are at serious risk of headbutts if they come to close. When I get home from work there is an excellent chance of me throwing on my Sean Taylor jersey and tackling strangers in the street. I'm so pumped up today I might put 120 lbs on the bench press at the gym today. Oh that's right, that's how excited I am. So I'll just leave you with this while I go spear someone getting off of the elavator:


Hail to the Redskins
Hail Vic-tor-y
Braves on the Warpath
Fight for old D.C.
Run or pass and score -- we want a lot more!
Beat 'em, Swamp 'em,
Touchdown! -- Let the points soar!
Fight on, fight on 'Til you have won
Sons of Wash-ing-ton. Fight!, Fight!, Fight!
Hail to the Redskins
Hail Vic-tor-y
Braves on the Warpath
Fight for old D.C.