Since the weather in the Greater Baltimore Area was so glorious this weekend I did a little bit of hiking. I went to a local state park that I did not know existed until Saturday. I climbed a few rocks. Took in the majesty of a waterfall or two. Perhaps I waded through the rapids of a stream. You know, nature stuff.
While walking on a particularly woodsy trail I came across a family. Mom, Dad, Son, Daughter, Grandma, and Friend of Daughter. Oh, and there was a cockapoo loving life chasing squirrels and such. I thought, how delightful, I like to see a family bonding together through glorious scenery. Upon further inspection I noticed that the Dad had a garbage bag. And the two little girls were running around picking up old cases of beer and soda cans and whatever else happened to be lying around. I was stunned. Who does that? An entire family gave up there Saturday to clean up the park.
It makes me happy to know that there are better people than myself doing good deeds. Cause God knows that’s a little too much to ask of me.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Ninjas
No, no, no, you’re doing it all wrong.
First of all, I’m pretty sure a ninja would not rob a convenience store; they’re a little too cunning for petty theft. Plus I’m pretty sure they’re purpose is assassinations, not robbing a gas station for $60. Secondly, it defeats the entire purpose of being a ninja if you’re just going to take your mask off. They wear masks for a reason, it’s called stealth dumbass. And a ninja wouldn’t run from the police, they would just blend into the potato chip aisle and become invisible (although a real ninja wouldn’t have to run from the police, they never would have been seen in the first place, remember the whole stealth thing). Lastly, ninjas don’t ask for anything, they just kill people and take it, get right idiot.
This guy clearly flunked out of ninja school after like two weeks. Maybe he needs to do a little more ninja research.
Seriously though, how awesome is this guy? I can just imagine his thought process:
“Bro, I’m totally out of crystal meth and I don’t have any money or a job. What am I going to do? (Light bulb flashes over head) I know, ninjas are awesome and everyone is scared of them right? I’ll dress in all black and take my samurai sword to the dry cleaners and they’ll just hand over the cash. Bro, I am wicked smaaaaaaaaaht.”
This is sort of like dressing up in your Darth Vader costume and tried to hold up a McDonalds with a toy light saber.
First of all, I’m pretty sure a ninja would not rob a convenience store; they’re a little too cunning for petty theft. Plus I’m pretty sure they’re purpose is assassinations, not robbing a gas station for $60. Secondly, it defeats the entire purpose of being a ninja if you’re just going to take your mask off. They wear masks for a reason, it’s called stealth dumbass. And a ninja wouldn’t run from the police, they would just blend into the potato chip aisle and become invisible (although a real ninja wouldn’t have to run from the police, they never would have been seen in the first place, remember the whole stealth thing). Lastly, ninjas don’t ask for anything, they just kill people and take it, get right idiot.
This guy clearly flunked out of ninja school after like two weeks. Maybe he needs to do a little more ninja research.
Seriously though, how awesome is this guy? I can just imagine his thought process:
“Bro, I’m totally out of crystal meth and I don’t have any money or a job. What am I going to do? (Light bulb flashes over head) I know, ninjas are awesome and everyone is scared of them right? I’ll dress in all black and take my samurai sword to the dry cleaners and they’ll just hand over the cash. Bro, I am wicked smaaaaaaaaaht.”
This is sort of like dressing up in your Darth Vader costume and tried to hold up a McDonalds with a toy light saber.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Nice Try Virus
I never get sick. I really can’t remember the last time I had even a minor illness. I mean, I have a terrible memory so it could have been a few months ago, but I don’t think so, I’m pretty sure it’s been a few years. It’s a fact I like to gloat about often.* My roommate is the complete opposite, he’s always sick, and I rub his face in it whenever possible.
In early February I went skiing with a bunch of people one of whom had some sort of virus that spread to almost everyone there. Everyone but me. These are the instances that validate my awesomeness at not getting sick. And again I took that as an opportunity to revel in my own glory.
That is why I was so thrown off yesterday morning when I woke up with the worst sore throat ever. I’m mildly certain that someone took a cheese grater to my vocal chords. Then I started to get achy throughout the day. I thought it might have been a chink in the armor. Was I actually going to have to take some sort of over the counter medicine? I never take medication, it invalidates my whole existence. I decided to ride it out for a night and see how I felt in the morning. And you’ll be happy to know that I feel totally better. You can stop panicking and return to your normal lives. My immune system is a total badass.
*Like how I can start the first 5 sentences of a paragraph with the letter I. I never cease to amaze myself.
In early February I went skiing with a bunch of people one of whom had some sort of virus that spread to almost everyone there. Everyone but me. These are the instances that validate my awesomeness at not getting sick. And again I took that as an opportunity to revel in my own glory.
That is why I was so thrown off yesterday morning when I woke up with the worst sore throat ever. I’m mildly certain that someone took a cheese grater to my vocal chords. Then I started to get achy throughout the day. I thought it might have been a chink in the armor. Was I actually going to have to take some sort of over the counter medicine? I never take medication, it invalidates my whole existence. I decided to ride it out for a night and see how I felt in the morning. And you’ll be happy to know that I feel totally better. You can stop panicking and return to your normal lives. My immune system is a total badass.
*Like how I can start the first 5 sentences of a paragraph with the letter I. I never cease to amaze myself.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Arrrgh?
There is a pirate festival in Fells Point this weekend. Would it be too racist if I dressed up in black face and went as a Somali pirate?
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Trying Times
Yesterday was a really tough day for me. Have you ever just had one of those days that you can barely handle because it’s so full of misery and sorrow? It doesn’t happen to me very often but yesterday was one of those days. I was only just holding back tears most of the afternoon.
It all started when I watched a video of Susan Boyle on Britain’s Got Talent. If you don’t get a little misty watching that then you might want to check for a soul, because I don’t think you have one. That crazy ass lady has the voice of an angel.
Then I got home from work and Rudy was on TV. I’m pretty certain that over the last decade I’ve dealt with more anguish over this movie than any of my relationships combined. “Who’s the wild man now?” It gets me every time.
As if that wasn’t enough during a commercial break in Rudy they aired one of those ASPCA commercials with Sarah McLachlan. How can you not get choked up by all those dogs and cats with the missing limbs and the crusty eyes? It’s just a lot to take.
On top of all that the Yankees got beat so bad an outfielder had to pitch. Way to pile it on God.
I’m actually pretty shocked I was able to get out of bed today. Clearly I have a lot more inner strength than I thought.
It all started when I watched a video of Susan Boyle on Britain’s Got Talent. If you don’t get a little misty watching that then you might want to check for a soul, because I don’t think you have one. That crazy ass lady has the voice of an angel.
Then I got home from work and Rudy was on TV. I’m pretty certain that over the last decade I’ve dealt with more anguish over this movie than any of my relationships combined. “Who’s the wild man now?” It gets me every time.
As if that wasn’t enough during a commercial break in Rudy they aired one of those ASPCA commercials with Sarah McLachlan. How can you not get choked up by all those dogs and cats with the missing limbs and the crusty eyes? It’s just a lot to take.
On top of all that the Yankees got beat so bad an outfielder had to pitch. Way to pile it on God.
I’m actually pretty shocked I was able to get out of bed today. Clearly I have a lot more inner strength than I thought.
Monday, April 13, 2009
A List
In the engineering world we sometimes use weird phrases. Without further ado:
A Brief List of Terms I’ve Heard Around the Office That Can Be Construed as Vaguely and/or Blatantly Sexual:
-Load rating
-Erection
-Con Box
-Jack Off
-Reverse Cowgirl*
*That one wasn’t work related.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Twitter Me This...
The other day I was discussing Twitter with a friend and I think we had similar feelings on the subject. I simply don’t understand the point of it at all.
I know I’m fairly late on this bandwagon and it’s probably been talked about ad nauseam but I’m sure there are 3 or 4 people who read this blog that don’t know what it is so I’ll give a brief explanation. All it is a website where you send 140 character maximum messages, or “tweets”, to people who “follow” your Twitter page. And those “followers” can reply to your “tweets”. It’s basically Facebook, stripped of everything but your status updates, only you can make it completely public to anyone. It’s like having a set email contact list in which to send all your inane thoughts and I really don’t get it.
I understand the irony of someone who writes a blog about the excruciating minutia of his everyday life being perplexed by this phenomenon but I just don’t comprehend why people are into this. At least in a blog post I have more than 140 characters to formulate an idea, complete a thought and attempt (usually in vain) to be somewhat funny or intelligent. I generally agree with the adage brevity is the soul of wit, but this is taking it to a new level. I kind of feel like the evolution of social networking sites coincides with the devolution of conversation and literature. Why bother actually talking to friends when you can just follow their tweets? And who needs to read when you can get all your information from the CNN twitter page? Never mind that there is barely room for a grammar and punctuation in 140 characters much less the ability to tell a full story.
I’m not one to write something off without giving it a chance though, so in the name of science I’m creating my own account. Who knows, maybe there are some unknown aspects that make it super awesome. Maybe I can get more friends involved and it actually becomes enjoyable. We’ll see. If you are into twitter yourself, and you feel so inclined, you can follow me here. Get ready for a lot of “tweets” about Kate from Lost or about how many beers I’ve had on any particular night. It should be pretty riveting.
I know I’m fairly late on this bandwagon and it’s probably been talked about ad nauseam but I’m sure there are 3 or 4 people who read this blog that don’t know what it is so I’ll give a brief explanation. All it is a website where you send 140 character maximum messages, or “tweets”, to people who “follow” your Twitter page. And those “followers” can reply to your “tweets”. It’s basically Facebook, stripped of everything but your status updates, only you can make it completely public to anyone. It’s like having a set email contact list in which to send all your inane thoughts and I really don’t get it.
I understand the irony of someone who writes a blog about the excruciating minutia of his everyday life being perplexed by this phenomenon but I just don’t comprehend why people are into this. At least in a blog post I have more than 140 characters to formulate an idea, complete a thought and attempt (usually in vain) to be somewhat funny or intelligent. I generally agree with the adage brevity is the soul of wit, but this is taking it to a new level. I kind of feel like the evolution of social networking sites coincides with the devolution of conversation and literature. Why bother actually talking to friends when you can just follow their tweets? And who needs to read when you can get all your information from the CNN twitter page? Never mind that there is barely room for a grammar and punctuation in 140 characters much less the ability to tell a full story.
I’m not one to write something off without giving it a chance though, so in the name of science I’m creating my own account. Who knows, maybe there are some unknown aspects that make it super awesome. Maybe I can get more friends involved and it actually becomes enjoyable. We’ll see. If you are into twitter yourself, and you feel so inclined, you can follow me here. Get ready for a lot of “tweets” about Kate from Lost or about how many beers I’ve had on any particular night. It should be pretty riveting.
Monday, April 06, 2009
Play Ball...
It's Opening Day, one of the best days of the year. I could wax poetic for a few thousands words on how metaphorical it is that it's raining in Baltimore right now but the storm is forecasted to break right before the first pitch. You know winter and all and baseball representing the hopefulness of spring. I mean, no one can romanticize baseball like me. Except for maybe Bob Costas. But I'm not going to do that because I have tickets to the game and I'm excited so I think I'm going to leave work early and get a beer or 8 and not write anything today. Here's a something about Opening Day instead*, go Yankees:
BY GLENN BIRKEMEIER
- - - -
In the big inning, God created Heaven on Earth. And it was without form, and void. God separated the dirt from the grass. He called the grass Outfield and the dirt He called Infield. God made the Infield a 90-foot square and the Outfield not less than 400 feet to center and 320 feet down the lines. He declared this Fair Territory. All other territory, God then declared, was Foul.
And God divided the players into two teams of nine players each, under direction of a manager, to play The Game on His field. God called some of these players Pitchers and some of them Hitters. He placed a Pitcher precisely 60 feet 6 inches from a Hitter. Then God commanded that it's one, two, three strikes you're out at the ol' Ballgame.
And God granted jurisdiction of The Game to lesser Gods, whom He called Umpires. God said the Umpires are infallible, blessed with Heavenly authority, whose judgment is not to be questioned under penalty of expulsion from The Game. And God looked at his creation and He was pleased. Then God created the Infield Fly Rule to confuse nonbelievers.
And God said, Let there be light beer, and there was. And, God said, let there be peanuts and hot dogs and overpriced souvenirs and let there be frosty chocolate malts with little wooden spoons that you can buy nowhere else except at this Heaven, which God called a Ballpark, and there was. God looked at His creation and it was good.
And the Lord God formed, from the dust, a collection of elite players in His own image. The Lord God then breathed the breath of life into His creation. God called this creation the National League.
And God said, It is not good for the National League to be alone. The Lord God shall make it a mate. And thus, while the National League slept, God took several of its top players and created the American League.
And God blessed The Game, saying, Be fruitful and multiply. Put teams in every city with deserving fans, God added, even if this occurs at the expense of starting-pitching depth.
From time to time, God understood, The Game would be corrupted by the Serpent. The Serpent was more cunning than any other beast and he would take many wicked forms: the Black Sox, segregation, the Designated Hitter, the Reserve Clause, dead balls, juiced balls, spit balls, corked bats, George Steinbrenner, AstroTurf, the 1981 strike, collusion, lockouts, Pete Rose, the 1994 strike, greenies, cocaine, HGH, Andro, steroids, $20 parking, corporate mallparks, Scott Boras, Donald Fehr, and Bud Selig.
But, God said, the goodness in The Game shall always prevail. As needed, the Lord shall bestow upon The Game a Savior. And the Savior, like the Serpent, can take many forms. The Savior shall remind Fans how blessed The Game truly is. The Savior shall be called by many names, including Cy, Matty, Honus, Big Train, the Babe, Wrigley Field, Fenway Park, Lou Gehrig, Branch Rickey, Jackie Robinson, Buck O'Neil, Hank Greenberg, Red Barber, Harry Carey, Vin Scully, Jack Buck, Satchel Paige, Bill Veeck, Roberto Clemente, Ernie Banks, Hammerin' Hank, Cool Papa, Dizzy, Lefty, Whitey, Stan the Man, Big Klu, the Say Hey Kid, Campy, Duke, the Mick, the Splendid Splinter, the Gas House Gang, the Big Red Machine, the Damn Yankees, Pudge Fisk, Pudge Rodriguez, Yaz, Pops, the Wizard of Oz, Fernando, George Brett, Moonlight Graham, Roy Hobbs, Wild Thing Vaughn, Bingo Long, the Ryan Express, Donnie Baseball, Rickey, Eck, the Big Unit, the Cactus League, Cal Ripken, Tony Gwynn, Camden Yards, Rotisserie Drafts, Web Gems, Derek Jeter, Dontrelle Willis, Vlad Guerrero, and, from the Far East, Ichiro. And, God guaranteed, there are many more to come.
God looked upon His creation and He was very pleased. And God spoke, yelling, PLAY BALL!
Opening DayGenesis.
BY GLENN BIRKEMEIER
- - - -
In the big inning, God created Heaven on Earth. And it was without form, and void. God separated the dirt from the grass. He called the grass Outfield and the dirt He called Infield. God made the Infield a 90-foot square and the Outfield not less than 400 feet to center and 320 feet down the lines. He declared this Fair Territory. All other territory, God then declared, was Foul.
And God divided the players into two teams of nine players each, under direction of a manager, to play The Game on His field. God called some of these players Pitchers and some of them Hitters. He placed a Pitcher precisely 60 feet 6 inches from a Hitter. Then God commanded that it's one, two, three strikes you're out at the ol' Ballgame.
And God granted jurisdiction of The Game to lesser Gods, whom He called Umpires. God said the Umpires are infallible, blessed with Heavenly authority, whose judgment is not to be questioned under penalty of expulsion from The Game. And God looked at his creation and He was pleased. Then God created the Infield Fly Rule to confuse nonbelievers.
And God said, Let there be light beer, and there was. And, God said, let there be peanuts and hot dogs and overpriced souvenirs and let there be frosty chocolate malts with little wooden spoons that you can buy nowhere else except at this Heaven, which God called a Ballpark, and there was. God looked at His creation and it was good.
And the Lord God formed, from the dust, a collection of elite players in His own image. The Lord God then breathed the breath of life into His creation. God called this creation the National League.
And God said, It is not good for the National League to be alone. The Lord God shall make it a mate. And thus, while the National League slept, God took several of its top players and created the American League.
And God blessed The Game, saying, Be fruitful and multiply. Put teams in every city with deserving fans, God added, even if this occurs at the expense of starting-pitching depth.
From time to time, God understood, The Game would be corrupted by the Serpent. The Serpent was more cunning than any other beast and he would take many wicked forms: the Black Sox, segregation, the Designated Hitter, the Reserve Clause, dead balls, juiced balls, spit balls, corked bats, George Steinbrenner, AstroTurf, the 1981 strike, collusion, lockouts, Pete Rose, the 1994 strike, greenies, cocaine, HGH, Andro, steroids, $20 parking, corporate mallparks, Scott Boras, Donald Fehr, and Bud Selig.
But, God said, the goodness in The Game shall always prevail. As needed, the Lord shall bestow upon The Game a Savior. And the Savior, like the Serpent, can take many forms. The Savior shall remind Fans how blessed The Game truly is. The Savior shall be called by many names, including Cy, Matty, Honus, Big Train, the Babe, Wrigley Field, Fenway Park, Lou Gehrig, Branch Rickey, Jackie Robinson, Buck O'Neil, Hank Greenberg, Red Barber, Harry Carey, Vin Scully, Jack Buck, Satchel Paige, Bill Veeck, Roberto Clemente, Ernie Banks, Hammerin' Hank, Cool Papa, Dizzy, Lefty, Whitey, Stan the Man, Big Klu, the Say Hey Kid, Campy, Duke, the Mick, the Splendid Splinter, the Gas House Gang, the Big Red Machine, the Damn Yankees, Pudge Fisk, Pudge Rodriguez, Yaz, Pops, the Wizard of Oz, Fernando, George Brett, Moonlight Graham, Roy Hobbs, Wild Thing Vaughn, Bingo Long, the Ryan Express, Donnie Baseball, Rickey, Eck, the Big Unit, the Cactus League, Cal Ripken, Tony Gwynn, Camden Yards, Rotisserie Drafts, Web Gems, Derek Jeter, Dontrelle Willis, Vlad Guerrero, and, from the Far East, Ichiro. And, God guaranteed, there are many more to come.
God looked upon His creation and He was very pleased. And God spoke, yelling, PLAY BALL!
*And Easter is coming up. Topical, sort of. Not really actually. Pretend this footnote isn't here.
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
April Fool's Day
I spent a good portion of last night (at least 4 minutes) trying to think of a good April Fool’s Day joke that I could use as post today. It is a lot harder than you would think. I couldn’t come up with anything all that isn’t either so obviously fake that it wouldn’t fool anyone, or too insensitive to actually be funny. I thought about carrying yesterdays posts into today and saying that I did end up getting laid off, but I don’t think that would be appropriate considering almost 750,000 people lost their jobs last month. Plus that would be tempting fate; I don’t need any bad karma. A friend of mine said I should tell everyone I have cancer. So he wins the award for the least funny April Fool’s Day joke ever.
In the end I gave up trying to be clever and fool anyone, instead I’m just going to post a picture of David Ortiz to show how much he looks like Florida from Good Times.
In the end I gave up trying to be clever and fool anyone, instead I’m just going to post a picture of David Ortiz to show how much he looks like Florida from Good Times.
Suck on that Red Sox fans.
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