Timmy is injured! Luckily, not a horrible season ending sort of injury, but still, injured. I hate Clumsy James Jones for his futile attempts to stop Timmy's greatness. For that, mr. stupid-leg-in-the-way should be sentenced to the circle of the Inferno where the people where lead robes and are forced to walk in never-ending circles around a roasting fire. That is the weight of guilt. If it had been a acl tear, I don't think Dante described a level severe enough.
This whole incident has been enough to expel the sparkle in my heart which was disguising my space there, and it has brought to the forefront the black spot on my soul.
UPDATE:
Ok, here is something that makes this a tiny bit better.
I love these boys!
Showing posts with label NBA. Show all posts
Showing posts with label NBA. Show all posts
Monday, December 3, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
shiny new and technological
What's more exciting: Tim Duncan being officially and correctly listed on the NBA All-Star Ballot, or the fact I actually figured out how to include the link to voting (widgit, whatever) in my blog.? I sure am not-knowing-what-I am-doing really well. So if you care, please vote, and make sure you vote for Tim Duncan.
Monday, November 12, 2007
not with a bang
Ignore the title of this blog. Every once in a while, I get the urge to quote, and in the absence of having something to truly say relevant to the topic, I will misappropriate and write about other things. Like my weekend.
So, this weekend, my friend and I went to SFMOMA to take advantage of a neat trick I have of getting in free. Unfortunately, this Saturday it was not such a great trick, since, thanks to Oracle, it was a "Free4All" day. So, we spent the day rubbing elbows+ with the outpouring of the cheap and cultured (and that includes me). Still, it was cool to see the art again, and be with a friend. We didn't get to see the special Olafur Eliasson Exhibit, because we are not crazy enough to wait an hour to go up to the 4th floor. I've seen it before, and it's pretty awesome, but not 1 hour of standing in line awesome. To make up for it, we went to the much-acclaimed gift shop of SFMOMA. I admit to being a skeptic of the claims of its amazingness, but, indeed, it did rock my world. Not enough for me to pay insane prices and wait in yet another line of death (Note, lines do seem to be a problem at SFMOMA, we didn't see the BMW art-car either because of the lines).
Then we meandered to MOAD, or the Museum of the African Diaspora. I know what prompted the question, but it opened with the line "When did you find out that you were African?" Fine, whatever, except I am pretty much Wonder-bread white, and so it amuses me when they try to make sweeping statements like this. I know, they are saying all human life came from Africa. I get it. And African Culture permeates everything. But still, I smiled. Also, let me add that though a delightful space, MOAD is not equipped to fit the number of people packt like sardines in a crushd tin box.
Finally, we ended it by wandering through the rainy-day streets and shopping. Okay, I spent all the money. But I bought my favorite game, Ticket to Ride, and some music. Then I went home and played the game online for hours with my sisters. Happiness through Technology, people.
Another thing of note of Saturday was the USCv.UCB football game. I used to follow college football with the same fervor you now see exerted towards the NBA, but I was quickly cured of that by going to a college football game. I now find it slightly baffling that as many people from USC should be descending upon Berkeley like a hoard of locusts. Don't you have other responsibilities? They were everywhere. In the museums, in the stores, on BART, walking noisily by my house after they won the game. I tell you, it didn't help endear them to me.
Now I will work, until 3, when I will be playing trains again online with my sisters.
So, this weekend, my friend and I went to SFMOMA to take advantage of a neat trick I have of getting in free. Unfortunately, this Saturday it was not such a great trick, since, thanks to Oracle, it was a "Free4All" day. So, we spent the day rubbing elbows+ with the outpouring of the cheap and cultured (and that includes me). Still, it was cool to see the art again, and be with a friend. We didn't get to see the special Olafur Eliasson Exhibit, because we are not crazy enough to wait an hour to go up to the 4th floor. I've seen it before, and it's pretty awesome, but not 1 hour of standing in line awesome. To make up for it, we went to the much-acclaimed gift shop of SFMOMA. I admit to being a skeptic of the claims of its amazingness, but, indeed, it did rock my world. Not enough for me to pay insane prices and wait in yet another line of death (Note, lines do seem to be a problem at SFMOMA, we didn't see the BMW art-car either because of the lines).
Then we meandered to MOAD, or the Museum of the African Diaspora. I know what prompted the question, but it opened with the line "When did you find out that you were African?" Fine, whatever, except I am pretty much Wonder-bread white, and so it amuses me when they try to make sweeping statements like this. I know, they are saying all human life came from Africa. I get it. And African Culture permeates everything. But still, I smiled. Also, let me add that though a delightful space, MOAD is not equipped to fit the number of people packt like sardines in a crushd tin box.
Finally, we ended it by wandering through the rainy-day streets and shopping. Okay, I spent all the money. But I bought my favorite game, Ticket to Ride, and some music. Then I went home and played the game online for hours with my sisters. Happiness through Technology, people.
Another thing of note of Saturday was the USCv.UCB football game. I used to follow college football with the same fervor you now see exerted towards the NBA, but I was quickly cured of that by going to a college football game. I now find it slightly baffling that as many people from USC should be descending upon Berkeley like a hoard of locusts. Don't you have other responsibilities? They were everywhere. In the museums, in the stores, on BART, walking noisily by my house after they won the game. I tell you, it didn't help endear them to me.
Now I will work, until 3, when I will be playing trains again online with my sisters.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
another blog? no one reads this one
Okay, I know three of you do, but really, you probably know that really isn't enough to justify the amount of time, minimal that it is, that I spend on this. Yet, be relieved all those people who pay attention and don't care about basketball etc, I am trying out blogging on the fan part of espn.com. We'll see how this goes. Don't expect me never to bring up sports, but count your blessings, because it spared you a detailed argument about trades. The platform still needs some work, but oh well.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
what a blessed relief
That would be basketball, the NBA that started last night with the Spurs receiving their rings and ended with them comfortably defeating the constantly improving Blazers. Well, actually, it ended with the Utah Jazz trouncing the Warriors in a manner cruelly reminiscent of the playoff series last year. In the middle was the Rockets barely squeaking by the Lakers, which is not to say that this is a Kobe sandwich, because if that was the case, I don't think anyone would partake.
Like many other people who decided, or had fate decide for them, that Basketball was their sport of choice, I feel like I have long wandered in the wasteland of Baseball (which cannot even hold a candle to TSE's The Wasteland, and is much more in line with being caught in a storm in the Gobi - a feeling of perpetually impending doom). I have read countless blogs yesterday and today breathing the collective sigh of relief that at long last, October 30th has dawned and we will not have to suffer again until Late June (or the All-Star Break, depending on how much of a purist you are). And to add my voice to this chorus, I will set down my observations for last night's games.
Game 1: Spurs v. Blazers, in San Antonio
This season started as I feel every season should: with the Spurs getting their rings, celebrating, and unveiling the banner that looks (gasp! Spoiler alert!) just like the ones hanging right next to it. I was thrilled to see that Chip Engelland got a ring, because I think his work with the players was instrumental in the success. Also, who didn't love to see how geeked the first time players were, despite attempts to act degagé.
Trivia Time: Which time in the NBA has the longest winning streak of season opening games? Let's not be silly, we know it is the Spurs, with 11 years of victory. For a team that everyone knows is a grower (start slow, and builds into 58 wins of Awesomeness), they know they have to put the right foot forward.
That isn't to say that it was a sure thing, hands-down win. Portland, rapidly improving into a soon-to-be contender, put up a stiff fight, and LaMarcus Aldridge has some skills on him. That team really has a lot of the future greatness for the NBA amongst its ranks. They kept good intensity and pressured the Spurs all the way to the end. I think (I write at work, not in front of my tivo) that they got it to 4 point spread before the Spurs stopped playing and actually got down to business in the last few minutes.
And to you nay-sayers (I don't want to hear about Phoenix, people, not today), it was not a boring game. It had plenty of up-and-down and running, and good passes and "dunks." Well, Portland had dunks that don't have to be in quotes, but San Antonio is not the place to find DUNKS. It's kind of a more than a layup, less than a jam.
It was good to see Darius Washington get out there and make some mistakes along with some good moves. he looks like he has some potential, and I'm pretty excited that it was him out there, and not the recently departed Beno Udrih. (Side note: Last season my sister and I went to the games when the Spurs came to play the Warriors. One thing we noticed is that when it was the time out with the Warrior Girls, there were two players that were not listening to Pops, but were slack-jawed watching the ladies like they had never seen a cheerleader/dancer before, Udrih and James White. Both are now gone. coincidence? I don't think so. Listen to Pops, he has got 4 rings for a reason)
NEXT: Rockets v. Lakers, in L.A.
I was excited for this game because I had heard big talk about the Rockets, and I wanted to see what they had. What will Rick Adelman do with the talent he has under his tutelage? Because he's a pretty good coach himself. Plus, I wanted to see what the Spurs had given away in Luis Scola (Probably a good player, but definitely a member of the All Not-Good-Hair team). I was not excited for this game because it included the Lakers, who right now have some of my all-time not favorite players (Kobe, Luke Walton). plus, the people of Los Angeles feel a sense of bizarre entitlement - every call and every game should be going their way because they payed ridiculous money for those seats and merchandise. That's what you get for liking a large-market team, a storied franchise You are paying for goods that were delivered 5 years ago. I hope you like the taste of history. MMM, delicious, and past-due.
The game showed me this: the Rockets have potential, but that Angel food cake hasn't set entirely yet. Give it some time, and it will not collapse under its own weight, like the Rockets sort of did in the last 1:30. (The middle of the game was a little lost in a local earthquake, when we had to first figure out if there really was an earthquake, and second, I had to field calls to make sure I and the caller were still alive) Well, thank goodness for Shane Battier, who I have heard is a hated player, but who doesn't like a Blue Devil? And, Kobe, missing 9 free throws. Again, I sort-of quote my roommate when I say, he really f$#%@ his own s$#& up with all this controversy. And Rafer Alston redeemed himself by knocking away the last rebound.
Game 3: Warriors v Jazz, in Oakland.
Curiously, the game I didn't watch was the local one, but this is what I have to say. That box score is sick. My condolences, fellow bay area people. That's no way to start a season. But it's one game. Better luck next time.
Like many other people who decided, or had fate decide for them, that Basketball was their sport of choice, I feel like I have long wandered in the wasteland of Baseball (which cannot even hold a candle to TSE's The Wasteland, and is much more in line with being caught in a storm in the Gobi - a feeling of perpetually impending doom). I have read countless blogs yesterday and today breathing the collective sigh of relief that at long last, October 30th has dawned and we will not have to suffer again until Late June (or the All-Star Break, depending on how much of a purist you are). And to add my voice to this chorus, I will set down my observations for last night's games.
Game 1: Spurs v. Blazers, in San Antonio
This season started as I feel every season should: with the Spurs getting their rings, celebrating, and unveiling the banner that looks (gasp! Spoiler alert!) just like the ones hanging right next to it. I was thrilled to see that Chip Engelland got a ring, because I think his work with the players was instrumental in the success. Also, who didn't love to see how geeked the first time players were, despite attempts to act degagé.
Trivia Time: Which time in the NBA has the longest winning streak of season opening games? Let's not be silly, we know it is the Spurs, with 11 years of victory. For a team that everyone knows is a grower (start slow, and builds into 58 wins of Awesomeness), they know they have to put the right foot forward.
That isn't to say that it was a sure thing, hands-down win. Portland, rapidly improving into a soon-to-be contender, put up a stiff fight, and LaMarcus Aldridge has some skills on him. That team really has a lot of the future greatness for the NBA amongst its ranks. They kept good intensity and pressured the Spurs all the way to the end. I think (I write at work, not in front of my tivo) that they got it to 4 point spread before the Spurs stopped playing and actually got down to business in the last few minutes.
And to you nay-sayers (I don't want to hear about Phoenix, people, not today), it was not a boring game. It had plenty of up-and-down and running, and good passes and "dunks." Well, Portland had dunks that don't have to be in quotes, but San Antonio is not the place to find DUNKS. It's kind of a more than a layup, less than a jam.
It was good to see Darius Washington get out there and make some mistakes along with some good moves. he looks like he has some potential, and I'm pretty excited that it was him out there, and not the recently departed Beno Udrih. (Side note: Last season my sister and I went to the games when the Spurs came to play the Warriors. One thing we noticed is that when it was the time out with the Warrior Girls, there were two players that were not listening to Pops, but were slack-jawed watching the ladies like they had never seen a cheerleader/dancer before, Udrih and James White. Both are now gone. coincidence? I don't think so. Listen to Pops, he has got 4 rings for a reason)
NEXT: Rockets v. Lakers, in L.A.
I was excited for this game because I had heard big talk about the Rockets, and I wanted to see what they had. What will Rick Adelman do with the talent he has under his tutelage? Because he's a pretty good coach himself. Plus, I wanted to see what the Spurs had given away in Luis Scola (Probably a good player, but definitely a member of the All Not-Good-Hair team). I was not excited for this game because it included the Lakers, who right now have some of my all-time not favorite players (Kobe, Luke Walton). plus, the people of Los Angeles feel a sense of bizarre entitlement - every call and every game should be going their way because they payed ridiculous money for those seats and merchandise. That's what you get for liking a large-market team, a storied franchise You are paying for goods that were delivered 5 years ago. I hope you like the taste of history. MMM, delicious, and past-due.
The game showed me this: the Rockets have potential, but that Angel food cake hasn't set entirely yet. Give it some time, and it will not collapse under its own weight, like the Rockets sort of did in the last 1:30. (The middle of the game was a little lost in a local earthquake, when we had to first figure out if there really was an earthquake, and second, I had to field calls to make sure I and the caller were still alive) Well, thank goodness for Shane Battier, who I have heard is a hated player, but who doesn't like a Blue Devil? And, Kobe, missing 9 free throws. Again, I sort-of quote my roommate when I say, he really f$#%@ his own s$#& up with all this controversy. And Rafer Alston redeemed himself by knocking away the last rebound.
Game 3: Warriors v Jazz, in Oakland.
Curiously, the game I didn't watch was the local one, but this is what I have to say. That box score is sick. My condolences, fellow bay area people. That's no way to start a season. But it's one game. Better luck next time.
Friday, October 26, 2007
The intervening moments of life
I know I promised to continue my previous post, but I have neglected in my brief moment of laborial satisfaction to post a few things. First, congrats Camille, for getting that new position at the institution. True, I'll miss you like crazy since you won't be in the cell/cubicle next to me anymore. What will life be without those ridiculous calls between two people less than 15 feet apart? Also, who will I exchange catty gossip with about senior staff (besides Marie, or Bonnie, or Adelaide or a handful of other people such a the head of HR)? But props to you for escaping this cellblock and building. I only wish you were a) not located next to the desk of that media guy who loathes me and b) seated a little closer to the girl with the Scharfenberger chocolate. I take comfort in the fact that it all might change really soon, since they are undergoing the joys of curling for beginners in that building.
Secondly, I would like to say I have reclaimed my brother from the brink of banality. Just as far back as July, he was saying Travis was his favorite band. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate Travis, but really, if they are your favorite band you probably are going to eat banana cream pudding for your crazy-go-wild dessert and finish out the evening watching My Best Friend's Wedding. Not a horrible fate, but he is a 21-year-old boy, he should like something really far-out (in either the direction of vile taste (ie. Linkin Park) or towards something surprisingly good (in the realm of My Morning Jacket)). It's like what I think Oliver Wendell Holmes said about politics, there is plenty of time to play it safe when you get older. Anyway, brother dearest has since backed down from his dangerously boring position.
Third, Earnesto will be gone for 3 of the next 4 weeks. Say no more.
Fourth, and most importantly, NBA season starts on Tuesday, opening with the Boys playing Portland. Guess who's leaving work early that day??
In support of the last fact, I link to this. No, I'll embed it. Enjoy!!
Secondly, I would like to say I have reclaimed my brother from the brink of banality. Just as far back as July, he was saying Travis was his favorite band. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate Travis, but really, if they are your favorite band you probably are going to eat banana cream pudding for your crazy-go-wild dessert and finish out the evening watching My Best Friend's Wedding. Not a horrible fate, but he is a 21-year-old boy, he should like something really far-out (in either the direction of vile taste (ie. Linkin Park) or towards something surprisingly good (in the realm of My Morning Jacket)). It's like what I think Oliver Wendell Holmes said about politics, there is plenty of time to play it safe when you get older. Anyway, brother dearest has since backed down from his dangerously boring position.
Third, Earnesto will be gone for 3 of the next 4 weeks. Say no more.
Fourth, and most importantly, NBA season starts on Tuesday, opening with the Boys playing Portland. Guess who's leaving work early that day??
In support of the last fact, I link to this. No, I'll embed it. Enjoy!!
Friday, September 21, 2007
The system is down
(What can I say? I'm a child of the times.)
If this weeks entries have seemed a bit off, it's because I've been a trifle off all week due to the intoxicating mixture of a cold, dayquil, nyquil, and my regular battery of medications. and by a trifle off, I mean, falling asleep unexpectedly, losing my voice, and dancing in the back of a truck outside of my house last night to the music only I seemed to be hearing. All in all, except for the fact I tend to get a bit grumpy when sick, it's one of the best, most entertaining times to know me. When I'm sick, I don't know anything about discretion. Which is only a bad thing because it's something I need for work. Ooops!
Still, I'm ill enough to decide to forgo a pleasant evening spent seaside for Miss Camille's birthday this weekend. Any guesses as to who will be there? That's right, Renaldo is taking a break from his busy boogaloo schedule to go and make puppy-dog eyes at his girl in several million. Which just reminds me of last year around this time was when his death-crush made it's Debut. And I'm talking about full on high society debut: it might as well have donned a gown and gloves and descended down the spiral stair to make an entrance into our workplace. (It would have done a lovely dance and looked so darling with a decorative fan)
Thinking about that night also reminds me how much I miss Sam, a fellow that came, worked for 6 months here, and changed my life. Sam, who remains the only person willing to even start up with me about the competition of the Spurs versus Mavericks. (there really isn't a competition: winning it all vs. being out in the first round thanks to the absolute genius of a single man bent on revenge). Sam, who when he sets his alarm always makes sure the digits add up to 9. I miss Sam 8 trillion times more than I miss Henry, which shows you my achilles heel. I love to have a crush; careless and spontaneous outpourings of emotion that in the end are not worth much. Examples include Henry (a great guy who I liked to like because he is funny and there was a game involved) and Rusty (not great guy I liked because I was dangerously bored).
Anyway, it makes me think of Sam because it was an occasion when he also joined us at a local libation station and imbibed. Can I say I miss him one more time? I MISS SAM!
Happy Birthday Camille!
If this weeks entries have seemed a bit off, it's because I've been a trifle off all week due to the intoxicating mixture of a cold, dayquil, nyquil, and my regular battery of medications. and by a trifle off, I mean, falling asleep unexpectedly, losing my voice, and dancing in the back of a truck outside of my house last night to the music only I seemed to be hearing. All in all, except for the fact I tend to get a bit grumpy when sick, it's one of the best, most entertaining times to know me. When I'm sick, I don't know anything about discretion. Which is only a bad thing because it's something I need for work. Ooops!
Still, I'm ill enough to decide to forgo a pleasant evening spent seaside for Miss Camille's birthday this weekend. Any guesses as to who will be there? That's right, Renaldo is taking a break from his busy boogaloo schedule to go and make puppy-dog eyes at his girl in several million. Which just reminds me of last year around this time was when his death-crush made it's Debut. And I'm talking about full on high society debut: it might as well have donned a gown and gloves and descended down the spiral stair to make an entrance into our workplace. (It would have done a lovely dance and looked so darling with a decorative fan)
Thinking about that night also reminds me how much I miss Sam, a fellow that came, worked for 6 months here, and changed my life. Sam, who remains the only person willing to even start up with me about the competition of the Spurs versus Mavericks. (there really isn't a competition: winning it all vs. being out in the first round thanks to the absolute genius of a single man bent on revenge). Sam, who when he sets his alarm always makes sure the digits add up to 9. I miss Sam 8 trillion times more than I miss Henry, which shows you my achilles heel. I love to have a crush; careless and spontaneous outpourings of emotion that in the end are not worth much. Examples include Henry (a great guy who I liked to like because he is funny and there was a game involved) and Rusty (not great guy I liked because I was dangerously bored).
Anyway, it makes me think of Sam because it was an occasion when he also joined us at a local libation station and imbibed. Can I say I miss him one more time? I MISS SAM!
Happy Birthday Camille!
Friday, August 31, 2007
A Reward for your Patience
For those of you who have been patiently awaiting my next post, provided that there are any of you, I am sorry. Pre-vacation prep and vacation has kept me away. Here is a brief update of what went on while I was away from the keyboard.
I have a lovely coworker named Camille, who all the boys love. Not joking. Henry loved her, Renaldo loves her, and various and sundry other pathetic fellows have prostrated themselves at her feet in the hopes she will pay them some attention. To date, that I know of, she has only dated Henry. She has repeated fended off advances from Renaldo, who has an obnoxious tendency to pout in an obvious manner afterwards and general then endeavors to makes everyone around him feel acutely embarrassed for his complete inability to take the none-too-subtle hint.
One day, many moons ago (think May-ish) I agreed to go out one evening and give Renaldo a few tips about the situation. It was a moment of weakness on my part, but motivated by the excellent intention to give him the tip of 'IT'S NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN' and have done with the whole slightly silly saga. It had been going on since last September. Anyway, you know what they say about intentions.
So the evening rolled around and I was already feeling grave misgivings about the whole scheme. Renaldo was just so happy. He was also ridiculously stealthy as he collected me from my cell and we left to the sports bar he had chosen for what would be my torture. I don't drink, but for a fleeting moment I wished I did so I would have something to blunt the agony that loomed. No, just a diet coke and glimpses out of the corner of my eye of a Detroit-Chicago playoff game (that was a tragic series, I rather like the Bulls, but they do have some room for improvement).
Even P.J. Brown felt better than I did that night (and less violated). (Reuters)
Renaldo got himself a beer and what he perceived as license to wax poetical about the virtues of Camille. The best/worst was when he said "She is one in a million, no, one in several million girls." News Flash - That same could be said of me, but it is certainly not high praise, now, is it?
He continued for TWO hours, and every time I tried to reacquaint him with reality, he would reject it out of hand. Add to that overly loud really bad music (pretty much things I would only ever hear if I was being tortured, like being forced to go to a baseball game, or back in time to the 80s ((and not the good bit of the 80s, but the really cringe-worthy parts))) and the fact that I hadn't eaten yet that day, and you will understand, surely. I tried melting into the wooden table top or just disappearing completely, but that is the one time Radiohead actually didn't help. Nothing could prevail against this pernicious crush. It was a new kind of evil.
Finally, I demanded that I be let go. Renaldo relented, in that he took me to the Bart station, but the entire ride was absorbed with his descriptions of his "feelings" for Camille. That's right, he used the f-word. And it wasn't as funny as the clip I just linked and it was more painful than this one (partially redeemed by the Spanish intro). Anyway, feelings are things that should either be able to be explicated - example, I am attracted to Damon, I loathe Styrofoam - or not mentioned. I tried explaining this to him, but something was lost in the English as a second language area.
** DISCLAIMER** Please don't assume this means I am xenophobic or anti-Hispanic or anti-ESL. Not that it matters, but Renaldo is not in fact Hispanic. That's not his real name. It is a simple fact, however, that when going between any two languages there are certain nuances and cultural factors that are frequently misunderstood. That is all I am saying.***
I was in this purgatory of a car ride when by divine intervention, my brother called me to discuss basketball. You can bet our last dollar that I was all over that. Who cares about cell-phone courtesy when their are being granted a reprieve from torture? So I leapt from the car when it came to the station and ran.
I was shell-shocked by the time I arrived home. Shell-shocked and ravenous. All I could think of was, 'must have chocolate.' Indeed, chocolate seemed the only thing that could possible make it bearable. So I proceeded to walk a mile to the store and a mile back (uphill, in the snow, both ways! okay, it's a little cliché, but it is the truth), purchased a fine chocolate cake and ate a healthy slice. By healthy, I refer to my mental health, as it did much to restore my mental health.
Ever since that fateful day, things have never been the same between Renaldo and me. Being around him makes me crave chocolate, even though he has not repeated his version of the Inquisition. It's simply not the way things used to be. He asked, as have his coworkers, what happened that has cause this rift. I don't say anything, because I have realized, it doesn't matter what you say to Renaldo, he has very selective hearing powers. He perceives that which is pleasing to him, and this isn't it.
And to cap this tale, I have made a timeline. Enjoy!
- Henry had his last day and rode off into the sunset.
- My foot swelled up like a sausage and broke one of my favorite shoes.
- I was invited to a very la event at SFMOMA, and will go next week. Apparently the person who wangled the invitation for me said I was qualified to go based of my 'young and fascinating" status. I didn't know I was young and fascinating, but hey, I'm not going to argue with it.
- I went on a leisurely vacation far away from my cell/cubicle. Acquired a bit of color that has in the two days I've been back faded back to gray.
- Earnesto and the senior managers went on a retreat I planned for them, enjoyed it, talked me up there, and repaid me by de-authorizing my overtime. What a swell guy.
I have a lovely coworker named Camille, who all the boys love. Not joking. Henry loved her, Renaldo loves her, and various and sundry other pathetic fellows have prostrated themselves at her feet in the hopes she will pay them some attention. To date, that I know of, she has only dated Henry. She has repeated fended off advances from Renaldo, who has an obnoxious tendency to pout in an obvious manner afterwards and general then endeavors to makes everyone around him feel acutely embarrassed for his complete inability to take the none-too-subtle hint.
One day, many moons ago (think May-ish) I agreed to go out one evening and give Renaldo a few tips about the situation. It was a moment of weakness on my part, but motivated by the excellent intention to give him the tip of 'IT'S NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN' and have done with the whole slightly silly saga. It had been going on since last September. Anyway, you know what they say about intentions.
So the evening rolled around and I was already feeling grave misgivings about the whole scheme. Renaldo was just so happy. He was also ridiculously stealthy as he collected me from my cell and we left to the sports bar he had chosen for what would be my torture. I don't drink, but for a fleeting moment I wished I did so I would have something to blunt the agony that loomed. No, just a diet coke and glimpses out of the corner of my eye of a Detroit-Chicago playoff game (that was a tragic series, I rather like the Bulls, but they do have some room for improvement).
Even P.J. Brown felt better than I did that night (and less violated). (Reuters)Renaldo got himself a beer and what he perceived as license to wax poetical about the virtues of Camille. The best/worst was when he said "She is one in a million, no, one in several million girls." News Flash - That same could be said of me, but it is certainly not high praise, now, is it?
He continued for TWO hours, and every time I tried to reacquaint him with reality, he would reject it out of hand. Add to that overly loud really bad music (pretty much things I would only ever hear if I was being tortured, like being forced to go to a baseball game, or back in time to the 80s ((and not the good bit of the 80s, but the really cringe-worthy parts))) and the fact that I hadn't eaten yet that day, and you will understand, surely. I tried melting into the wooden table top or just disappearing completely, but that is the one time Radiohead actually didn't help. Nothing could prevail against this pernicious crush. It was a new kind of evil.
Finally, I demanded that I be let go. Renaldo relented, in that he took me to the Bart station, but the entire ride was absorbed with his descriptions of his "feelings" for Camille. That's right, he used the f-word. And it wasn't as funny as the clip I just linked and it was more painful than this one (partially redeemed by the Spanish intro). Anyway, feelings are things that should either be able to be explicated - example, I am attracted to Damon, I loathe Styrofoam - or not mentioned. I tried explaining this to him, but something was lost in the English as a second language area.
** DISCLAIMER** Please don't assume this means I am xenophobic or anti-Hispanic or anti-ESL. Not that it matters, but Renaldo is not in fact Hispanic. That's not his real name. It is a simple fact, however, that when going between any two languages there are certain nuances and cultural factors that are frequently misunderstood. That is all I am saying.***
I was in this purgatory of a car ride when by divine intervention, my brother called me to discuss basketball. You can bet our last dollar that I was all over that. Who cares about cell-phone courtesy when their are being granted a reprieve from torture? So I leapt from the car when it came to the station and ran.
I was shell-shocked by the time I arrived home. Shell-shocked and ravenous. All I could think of was, 'must have chocolate.' Indeed, chocolate seemed the only thing that could possible make it bearable. So I proceeded to walk a mile to the store and a mile back (uphill, in the snow, both ways! okay, it's a little cliché, but it is the truth), purchased a fine chocolate cake and ate a healthy slice. By healthy, I refer to my mental health, as it did much to restore my mental health.
Ever since that fateful day, things have never been the same between Renaldo and me. Being around him makes me crave chocolate, even though he has not repeated his version of the Inquisition. It's simply not the way things used to be. He asked, as have his coworkers, what happened that has cause this rift. I don't say anything, because I have realized, it doesn't matter what you say to Renaldo, he has very selective hearing powers. He perceives that which is pleasing to him, and this isn't it.
And to cap this tale, I have made a timeline. Enjoy!
Thursday, August 2, 2007
A Moment I've been waiting for
The NBA Schedule was released today!!! For those of you who know me, you know this is exciting beyond belief. It also means that I can buy tickets to when the Warriors play the Spurs. I miss my boys so. Will I be able to breathe before the day I buy those tickets to heaven? That I cannot say.
Let's hear it for a repeat!!!
UPDATE:
A Moment of genius insanity had me buy courtside seats to one of the games on Friday. My life is so good. My bank balance, not so good.
Let's hear it for a repeat!!!
UPDATE:
A Moment of genius insanity had me buy courtside seats to one of the games on Friday. My life is so good. My bank balance, not so good.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Pictures are not always Eyewash
Not for everyone, and don't assume I agree with his analysis, but good heck, these things are funny. I can't wait for him to get to the Spurs pick. I also wish these were actual Little People. Pay attention, Fisher Price.
Friday, April 27, 2007
April is not the Cruelest month
I don't often have the guts to get up and hit out at Eliot from the shoulder, but I have to disagree. April is not the Cruelest Month. July is, due to the total dearth of any acceptable spectator sports. April is a wonderful month for all NBA fans of teams with any credibility at all. I rejoice in April, for I am a San Antonio Spurs fan.
I have never even been to Texas, but I long have held the position (as a person who gets terribly sunburnt in the slightest solar radiation) that I would never live in Texas, except for in San Antonio because of the Spurs. And the river. I am fond of rivers.
The Spurs have no shortage of credibility. Three Championships in the last ten years. Their success, their hardworking gritty defense, their collective being makes my heart sparkle. And they have the amazing Trifecta of Foreign Perfection with Tim Duncan, Tony Parker, and Manu Ginobli. One day they will probably each have their own posts here, and one entirely dedicated to Tony's eyebrows. Polite Incredulity, anyone?
Can anything really compare to the second championship, clinched on Father's Day, and the last game of David Robinson's career? True, it took place in June, but it started in April, with the start of the playoffs.
Perhaps Eliot was referring to the fact that MLB starts in April. Now that is too cruel. It's nothing but a distraction. In fact, the juxtaposing of baseball and Playoff Basketball is similar to
playing the Spice Girls on a crappy boom box on stage while a full orchestra is playing Debussy in the pit. Truly, it is a fiendish punishment. The world deserves better.
But I will being enjoying the waning moments of April tomorrow as I watch the Spurs beat the Nuggets (who I actually like, and would want to win, except when playing a team I like more. I think AI and 'Melo is an intriguing combination especially if the rest of the team can transform from their injury-prone, made from balsa wood current form).
Let us close with a psalm of praise for Don Nelson and his ability to really screw with Dallas. Amen!
I have never even been to Texas, but I long have held the position (as a person who gets terribly sunburnt in the slightest solar radiation) that I would never live in Texas, except for in San Antonio because of the Spurs. And the river. I am fond of rivers.
The Spurs have no shortage of credibility. Three Championships in the last ten years. Their success, their hardworking gritty defense, their collective being makes my heart sparkle. And they have the amazing Trifecta of Foreign Perfection with Tim Duncan, Tony Parker, and Manu Ginobli. One day they will probably each have their own posts here, and one entirely dedicated to Tony's eyebrows. Polite Incredulity, anyone?
Can anything really compare to the second championship, clinched on Father's Day, and the last game of David Robinson's career? True, it took place in June, but it started in April, with the start of the playoffs.
Perhaps Eliot was referring to the fact that MLB starts in April. Now that is too cruel. It's nothing but a distraction. In fact, the juxtaposing of baseball and Playoff Basketball is similar to
playing the Spice Girls on a crappy boom box on stage while a full orchestra is playing Debussy in the pit. Truly, it is a fiendish punishment. The world deserves better.
But I will being enjoying the waning moments of April tomorrow as I watch the Spurs beat the Nuggets (who I actually like, and would want to win, except when playing a team I like more. I think AI and 'Melo is an intriguing combination especially if the rest of the team can transform from their injury-prone, made from balsa wood current form).
Let us close with a psalm of praise for Don Nelson and his ability to really screw with Dallas. Amen!
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