The Gentle Art of Making Enemies

Machine of Rejection

2011-11-06T23:42:00.001-05:00

A few months back, the Machine of Death folks put out a call for submissions for a second volume of stories centered around the idea that there is a machine that, with a simple blood test, tells you how you will die. The predictions are not always clear, but the machine is always accurate.

I decided to put something together and submit a story. This past Friday, they sent out "the emails", letting people know whether or not they'd been selected. I was not selected. Like many of the other rejectees, I decided to put it up online, for you all to read, without having to buy a book! Or me getting paid! (Seriously, though, I would recommend the book. The first volume was pretty awesome. Second one probably will be, too.)

Holding up Traffic…in Bed

Sitting on the windowsill and leaning against the screen, you watch the stream of people, seven stories below, the pedestrians walking the sidewalks, the drivers pushing their cars through traffic. It amazes you the way they keep trudging forward, keep going on with their lives, focusing on their next meeting, their next meal, willfully ignorant that there might not be one, that today could be the last day they have.

Being ignorant of the inevitability of death was once as basic as breathing. Since LexiCo introduced the Machine of Death to the world, few, if any, have been able to escape wrestling with the reality of their final fate. The fad started slowly, as people weren’t sure they wanted to know their ultimate fate, but curiosity soon trumped fear, and people flocked in droves to malls and doctors’ offices, queuing up by the hundreds, shelling out hard-earned cash to get the cryptic reading.

There are those who have resisted. Some argue that the lack of privacy of The Machine and its readings is unethical, as you can walk into almost any mall and get your reading. Others argue against the moral and religious implications of mankind worshipping a machine. The more vocal opposition groups protest outside buildings whose occupants advertise and advocate the use of The Machine. Though you understand their fears – you still haven’t managed to overcome your own– you think they are missing the point. Not knowing the ending will not prevent it from happening. Knowing is better than not knowing. It has to be. Knowing would be liberating, you tell yourself. It would allow you to take chances, do things you’ve been too scared to try.

“You’re so naïve,” your brother would say. He didn’t like The Machine, and didn’t want you to get your reading. “Don’t you understand anything about human nature? Sure, people feel liberated at first, and a few people might actually change their lives. By and large, though, you’ll see people tuck the slip away and forget about it, like the fortunes they get from cookies at Chinese restaurants.”

He had a point. There is a ghoulish, though entertaining, website entirely devoted to people submitting their readings and adding the words, “in bed,” turning them from vague predictions into something vaguely dirty, the way teenagers add the same two words onto fortune cookie sayings. Some of your favorites include, “EATEN BY COUGARS…IN BED,” and “SMOTHERED BY DELICIOUS CAKE…IN BED.” That’s just how some people deal with the knowledge. Some laugh at it, some try to forget about it, but not all of them.

“The problem is,” your brother would continue, “The predictions come true. So what’s the point of trying to change anything? You’re going to get shot by a mugger, or have a heart attack going to Chicago, so what’s it matter?”

You didn’t agree with him then, and you don’t now. He’s a cynic, a contrarian. Whatever was popular, he disliked. When that fad fell out of style, he lamented its passing while tearing apart the new. Naturally, he would meet any positive spin on the wildly popular Machine of Death craze with staunch disdain. He’s trying to be the protective older brother, but you know that he wouldn’t be as protective if The Machine wasn’t so popular.

A flash of lights from the street below catches your eye. A group of pedestrians gathers on the sidewalk, held back by a ring of police officers, creating a semicircle near the base of your building. At the center, medics tend to something under a black plastic sheet, a dark stain spreading outward under their feet. A body. Someone died right in front of your building. You wonder if they’d visited a Machine of Death, if they’d gotten a reading, and if so, what it said. HOLDING UP TRAFFIC, you think, noting the cop directing the cars around the scene, then mentally tack on IN BED. It sounds like the prediction of someone who would die while sleeping with a prostitute.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and calm your nerves. “Today is the day,” you tell yourself, willing yourself to follow through, finally. “Today is the day I find out.”

* * *

At the mall, you walk over to the kiosk, but don’t get in line. Instead, you find a place off to the side, opposite the young man tending to the till, where you can stand and watch as the customers step up to the brushed silver box, insert their finger into the padded hole, and get their reading. Feeling a stab of guilt, you find yourself entranced by the looks on their faces as they read the little slip of paper.

Some look relieved; more often, they look scared. Some people already have tears in their eyes as they insert their finger. You see one teen taunted by his small group of friends, teased for being afraid of the reading. They all got their readings, but he held out. He tries to explain that he just isn’t interested, but he can’t convince them, and so he throws down his money, signs the release, and thrusts his finger into the hole, glaring at his friends. The printer clicks and whirs, spewing forth his prediction. Snatching it quickly, he looks at it, then up at his friends. His printout reads EVERYONE ELSE IS DOING IT.

Certain things hold true. The younger the customer, the more likely they are to act excited upon receiving the prediction. The older customers tend to receive the news with grim acceptance. Many walk away simply baffled by their predictions. One woman, around middle age, reads her slip, left index finger still hovering near the port, then looks up at the teenage attendant. He tells her, in the flat voice of rote memorization, “Neither I, nor LexiCo, nor the Skyebrook Mall are responsible for predictions made by the MoriSense 800, nor the actualization of said prophecies. Please move out of the way and allow the next customer to be read.”

A sign below The Machine spells this out, as well as a variety of other legal clauses, absolving both companies, as well as any and all employees, of any responsibility. It also explains the impossibility of fully testing the infallibility of The Machine, that any and all predictions are purely for entertainment purposes, and that absolutely no refunds will be given.

The next customer in line, a younger woman with curly brown hair, taps her on the shoulder. She steps aside, still bewildered, not realizing at first that the other woman was actually asking to see the prediction. In a clear voice, louder than she intended, the woman says, “MAROONED IN SPACE, BUT NOT IN TIME,” she says, then blinks a few times. “I don’t... I can’t…,” she says before wandering back down the mall towards the food court.

The attendant takes the younger woman’s money indifferently, has her sign a release, and instructs her to insert her finger. She holds her finger up in front of the port for a few seconds, deliberating, controlling her breathing. The attendant sighs loudly, rolling his eyes.

* * *

Until he left, your brother made it a point to call you weekly. “Are still obsessed with that damn Machine?” he asked during one phone call, just over two years ago. “Alright, meet me at Skyebrook Tuesday night.”

You met him at the Food Court, and walked down the mostly empty mall corridor. “If I can’t talk you out of getting your reading, maybe I can give you an object lesson.”

The two of you approached the kiosk, you a step behind your brother, in awe of The Machine, gleaming under a couple of floodlights. Your brother strode up to it as though it were any other mall kiosk and stood at the back of the short line. The two people in front of them got their readings and walked away. Your brother paid the teen, telling him curtly, “Just one,” with a glance at you. The teen, shrugged with disinterest, and gestured towards The Machine.

You suppressed a yelp as he jammed his finger into the port, all the way up to the knuckle. “Gently,” you said to him. He gave you a sharp, angry look, and then returned his attention to The Machine, now whirring to life. He grabbed the slip without looking at it and led you away from the kiosk. Near the wall of the corridor, he wheeled to face you, the folded slip of paper held up between your faces.

“This is just a slip of paper,” he said. “It will tell me how I die, but it cannot tell me how I will live. Do you understand that?” You weren’t entirely sure that you did, but you nodded. He handed you the slip. Unfolding it, the blood drained from your face; an icy knot formed in your chest as you read the large, black, block letters.

COMPLICATIONS FROM PARALYSIS

* * *

You watch a slender young man approach, pay with a credit card, and slide his finger slowly into the port. Closing his eyes, he mouths the words, please no, over and over as The Machine whirs and clicks, analyzing his blood sample. The small white slip of paper slides out from the little slot; he takes it with his free hand while sliding his finger out of the port.

Stepping towards you, he reads the printout, his face pale, shoulders sagging. His hand goes limp, and the paper falls to the floor, fluttering towards you. Lunging forward, you try to pick it up for him, but he beats you to it. As he picks it up, though, you catch sight of most of the reading.

BOTCHED SEX CH—

Snatching it up, he stuffs it into his pocket, then darts past you up the mall corridor. His footsteps fade to silence, and you realize that you’re all alone. The mall is closing, maybe even already closed. The stores around you are gated and dark, and even the MoriSense attendant has ducked away, leaving The Machine unattended.

Standing in front of it, you eye the finger port, a hole about the size of a silver dollar, padded with foam rubber, so that the actual opening is just a slit. You imagine sliding your finger in, the rubber giving, but also holding snugly, pulling your finger deeper and deeper inside the chamber, still warm from previous customers, slightly moist from the disinfectant. Pulse quickening, your finger throbs as the machine slowly squeezes, inducing blood flow to the tip. A quick hiss of air licks at your finger as the needle pricks you, a lightning-fast bite on the pad, penetrating just far enough to extract a few drops of blood and withdraw. Tiny jets of disinfectant shower your finger as you pull out; it evaporates quickly, leaving your finger cool and tingly as you await the results, trying to catch your breath.

Your fingers already tingle as you try to work up the nerve to insert one. Index digit raised, you inch closer to it. The mall is quiet and still, as though empty and abandoned, only you and The Machine remaining. The only lights the two flood lights illuminating the MoriSense 800, a gleaming silver box, waiting for you, drawing you closer, urging you to insert a finger.

* * *

The window opposite yours in the building across the street looks into the apartment of a young couple who has neglected to draw the shades. You’re not a voyeur, but you find yourself watching the couple as they lay out a nice dinner, perhaps for an anniversary. Today is an anniversary for you, too. One year since you first said, “Today is the day.” One year since you vowed you would receive your fate; a full year of going to the mall, eyeing the kiosk, and chickening out.

It’s been almost two years since the first letter from your brother, containing a postcard from some sunny island in the South Pacific. He had disappeared a couple of weeks earlier, leaving a note in his apartment stating that anything still there should be sold off, donated, or simply thrown in the trash. His reading had troubled him more than he wanted anyone to know. The Machine’s prediction had affected your brother in a way that he had not expected.

I thought that knowing wouldn’t be any different than not knowing. I thought that if it were meant to be, then knowing wouldn’t matter. If it was going to happen, it was going to happen, and until then, life would go on. That isn’t the case for me, though. Someday, something will happen that will leave me paralyzed, and some complication thereof will lead to my death. I couldn’t just sit around and wait for that to happen. There’s so much to see in this world, so much to do, that I had to take advantage of whatever time I have left, be it a day, a month or 30 years.

He trekked across the US, then up into Canada. He worked on a fishing boat to pay his way to Japan, the source of the letter. The postcard was his next destination. Your parents tried to go there, but found no available commercial flights from the US, and any other option was out of their price range.

The purpose of his letters in those first few weeks seemed to be less about letting you and the rest of the family know that he was alive and what he was doing, and more about convincing you that his turnaround, his embracing of life via the prediction of his death was the exception, and not the rule. He didn’t want you to use The Machine; he still wanted to protect you from it.

Most predictions spell out only the end. Mine did not. Yours might not, either, but what if it does? I met a man whose prediction read, “FRESH AIR.” He refuses to go outside, even though whatever’s in the air could take 50 years to kill him.

As time passed, though, his tone changed; his letters began to sound more like sermons.

I have joined a church – The First Church of The Machine. By the time you read this, I will be an ordained minister. I joined the church a month ago, but this is merely the culmination of a process that started long before that. Truthfully, the day I got my reading was the day I awoke, even if I didn’t realize it at the time. I have been spreading the news of my awakening for more than the past year, letting the world know of the joys of The Machine, how it changed my life, how knowing how my life will end liberated me. With the Church’s backing, I will now get to travel the globe, spreading the message.

The letters strengthened your resolve to use The Machine, to get your reading, but they couldn’t overcome your fear. Unable to forget the way you felt upon seeing your brother’s printout, every time you went to the mall, you’d freeze up, and then leave, feeling like a wimp. You tried going early in the morning, before you’d thought too much about it, but always thought about what it would be like spending the rest of the day knowing. Going at night was problematic; you worried you wouldn’t be able to sleep.

One time, you called a friend on your cell phone while in the queue, hoping to distract yourself enough with idle chatter to pay, insert your finger, and get your reading, but when you approached the woman tending the kiosk, the gleaming machine caught your eye. You froze in mid sentence, withdrew your money, and walked quickly down the mall, trying to put as much distance between yourself and the MoriSense 800 as possible without running.

Every day you steeled yourself for the task, and every day you folded.

* * *

The sidewalks below your building, illuminated by streetlights, are empty, save for the occasional person heading home from work, or dinner, or just a nighttime walk. Just two bright orange cones that could signify anything mark off the spot almost directly below your window, where the crowd had gathered. The occasional passersby pay no attention to them, or the bloodstain in between.

That stain is all that remains of a person who, just a few hours ago, was walking around in your city. Maybe they lived in your building. Perhaps it was someone you might have met one day. Suddenly, you don’t want to get your reading. You realize there is plenty of life to be lived, and you don’t need a few words on a slip of paper to go out there and live it. It is possible to live a full life, even without knowing your fate.

Looking down at your hand, a small slip of paper catches your eye. A few words, in bold, black, block text printed on it. A fortune. Someone’s Machine readout. It couldn’t be, though. Where would you have gotten it? People don’t leave them lying around. Studies have shown that people tend to be more protective of their reading than of their social security cards, even after death. You’ve read stories about medical examiners having to break the fingers of corpses just to pry out the readings.

The wind shifts, and the window screen flutters, banging against the frame. How long has it been loose? This is where you come to sit and think, to breathe some fresh air, to clear your head. If the screen ever came loose, you would fall out the window, nothing but open air between you and the sidewalk below. You peer carefully down at the sidewalk again. Suddenly, you know.

The wind rushed in your ears as you tumbled headlong into the night; your stomach fluttering, trying to cope with the sudden and radical acceleration, your brain trying to rationalize your new disposition. Just as you adjusted to the fall, the ground rose up to meet you with a sickening crack of bones that disappeared as suddenly as it started, and all is silence. Someone would have seen, and would have come running, would have called 911, but help arrived too late. The police and medics showed up and tossed a sheet over your body, like a bed sheet.

Inspecting your index finger, you see the tiny red dot, the scar of prescience. The wind causes the slip of paper to flutter in your other hand. You already know, and wish you didn’t. Holding it up, you read the words, HOLDING UP TRAFFIC…IN BED.

Friday's Dinner and Saturday's Lunch

2011-04-11T21:30:00.002-04:00

note: I meant to post this before leaving for Minnesota last Wednesday, but ran out of time.

I've been posting photos on Facebook of my adventures in cookery, but the space is limited there, so I can't expound much on the recipes I used, and the pros and cons of the outcome. Also, it's tough to go back and find stuff I've made. I figure my blog would be a little more permanent, as well as searchable, as well as expoundable.

Friday, 04.01.11
Southwest Scramble with "Texas Bruschetta"

In retrospect, I should have taken a photo of the salsa, but I'll make do.

This was supposed to be a Southwest Omelet, but Sarah wasn't home to make the actual omelet, and that's something I haven't quite learned yet. The nice thing about omelets is that if you screw up, unless it's a really bad screw-up, you can just call the results "scrambled eggs". It's not how I would have made them had that been the intention, but it worked....well, sort of (you can see that the eggs got a little over-cooked, but I like that, especially with a good toast).

Speaking of toast, let's talk about something I call "Texas Bruschetta". You probably know of Texas Toast as thick garlic bread, or the packaging of particularly "hearty" sandwiches. Really, it's just extra-thick bread. The bread I used isn't particularly thick, but it is a roll, so it has a little more bulk. The "Bruschetta" comes from the salsa. Starting with a red tomato and a tomatillo, I added some red onion, garlic, red, yellow, and orange bell peppers, parsley, cumin, paprika, and kosher salt. It's a little concoction I call DELICIOUS. It's actually a slight variation of a recipe I stumbled upon this summer. An amplification, if you will. Normally, I use just an onion, a red tomato, a red bell pepper, some garlic, and the spices.

The tomatillo surprised me. I'd never done anything with them, and if I've ever eaten anything with them, I didn't know it. I plan on using them more in the future. Salsa verde? Something like that.

I toasted the bread, and put a little butter on it, then spooned some of the salsa on top. The juices from the salsa seeped into the crannies of the roll; the two elements melded together into something similar, but different. Texas Bruschetta.

Friday, 04.01.11
Pulled Pork with Texas Bruschetta

Ok, I'll be honest, this was the original intent of my Texas Bruschetta. Generally when Sarah and I make pulled pork, we have it as a sandwich. Or, at the very least, with bread. So, I wanted to do something a little different. Sarah was to be home late from class on Friday, though, so I decided to save it for Saturday.

First off, the pulled pork. Not my best effort. It's a 4-5 lb pork shoulder, rubbed with a mix of ground chipotle, allspice, dill, and ground coffee. Sounds odd? Only if you didn't watch Top Chef this season. Angelo Sosa apparently reached into the pantry with his eyes close, and just grabbed the first four spices that he touched (I think coffee could be considered a spice), and made a great pulled pork. I made this a couple weeks after that episode aired, and it came out pretty good, though working without a recipe, I don't think I used enough dill, and it disappeared. The chipotle gave a great "slow burn" and the pork had a great flavor.

This time, I think my ratios were all off, and we ran out of ground chipotle. Not wanting to bury it in other peppers, I only mixed in a little ancho and cayenne. Again, not enough dill (though, I think that's better than the alternative). I cooked it in the pressure cooker, with a little water, a dark ale, and some bbq sauce on top.

The pressure cooker is a mysterious piece of kitchen equipment. Sarah got it for her birthday, and we've only used it 3 times. Counting the experiences of both Sarah and I with other pressure cookers, runs that total up to...3. So, you wouldn't be too far out of line to say that we're pretty inexperienced. Each time we use it, we hunker down in the living room, inching lower on the couch as the steam builds, trying to keep our heads below the sill of the open wall between the living room and the kitchen, but trying not to look like we're doing it. Of course, I'm unable to just leave be, so I'm up every few minutes, checking on the lock indicator, the pressure valve. Then, when it gets to temp, we turn down the heat, and debate what constitutes a "slow rocking". Timer set, we watch TV.

After 50 minutes, I move the cooker to the sink, dousing it in cold water, releasing the pressure. Opening the lid back on the stove, the beautiful scents waft out, and we check on the meat. Not cooked. This happened the first time, and happened this time, as well. Ok, no biggie, seal the cooker, bring back up to heat, go back to the couch, and wait. The first time, we repeated this a couple of times. This time, I set the timer longer (~25 minutes), and just let it cook. Timer. Cold water. Open. Thermometer. Done. Well past done, in fact.

It's not as moist as it could be, but also not as dry. It's pretty good with some bbq sauce.

The only change I made to the toast was the butter. Instead of just regular butter, I whipped up some compound butter, using some garlic powder and some ground rosemary. Good stuff, and great for a variety of purposes.

Hey Folks, Get Your Headphones Out, It's "Anti Idol" Time!

2011-03-20T12:09:00.020-04:00

Anti Idol by Broken Robot Factory:

So, here it is, the album that almost wasn't, then was, really quickly.

For those who don't know, the RPM Challenge is held every February, organized by a seacoast-area newspaper. The challenge is to write and record an entire album (either 10 songs or 35 minutes of music) between February 1st and February 28th (in leap years, they give you an extra day). You're not expected to produce masterpieces, it's just supposed to get the creative juices flowing. It's not a contest, there are no prizes, it's just a kick in the pants to get you doing something.

This year, I was hesitant to participate. I've done it for the past four years, and my results the past couple of years were not great. I'm not much of a musician, but even to my lowered standards, I wasn't happy with what I put out. There were other factors, as well. I don't have great recording equipment at home - I tend to make my music in GarageBand on the Mac, which really only works well on my computer at work. I have it on an iMac I own, but it runs slow, and doesn't have the abilities as the G5 I have at work. Time at work is limited, so I just can't spend the time I would need to make my music sound the way I'd want it to sound.

As the month went on, Sarah told me about her ride home from work. She nannies my brother's 4 daughters, and as a result, listens to a lot of nursery rhymes. She commented that the music she listens to on the way home is "Anti Nursery Rhyme". Nothing terrible in terms of language or content, but definitely more adult than what the kids listen to all day. After this conversation, I found myself wishing I'd participated this year, if for no other reason than to write an album of true "Anti-Nursery Rhymes" for her to listen to after work.

The next work day, I found myself with some free time at my G5, so I pulled up GarageBand and started noodling around. Before I knew it, I'd written a song. On February 15th. More than halfway into the challenge. Well, I wrote that song in a day. Maybe I could do a song each day. If I can write in the 4-5 minute range, then it would only take 7 or 8 songs to fulfill the 35 minute requirement. This could work!

And, for the most part, I managed to work in that time frame. There were a couple of songs that needed extra work. "Andryala," for instance, I had mostly done in a day, but it sounded a little goofy. So, I tweaked it a tiny bit, and found a much richer sound. I was also lucky to find some new instruments, which allowed me to open up my sound a little bit; many of the new guitars I now have come with built-in chord structures. These can present a different set of challenges - different sections of the keyboard represent different types of chords, which can severely limit range - but they make it simple to write a loop with a mix of chords and single notes, as well as giving the music a fuller sound.

Originally, I'd intended to call the album "Anti Nursery Rhymes", but that doesn't really flow very well. In the end, I went with the more compact "Anti Idol". There's not much meaning behind it, other than I don't really like American Idol. That's not really where the name came from, but it works well enough.

As the month wrapped up, I had 8 tracks, and just shy of 35 minutes of music. I could have slowed down "Ephemera", but that felt cheap, and I liked it as-is. So, with a weekend free from hockey, I pulled out the iMac, and wrote something kinda bad, but long enough to finish. I burned a disc, sent it off, and got confirmation a couple days later. I had done it! An album of music in half a month! Crazy! And better than my past couple of efforts! Crazier!

Of course, I wasn't entirely happy. A couple of songs needed balancing/tweaking, and, of course, the final song I'd written was kinda crappy. And, I hadn't actually named the tracks, or created an album cover - neither are required, but I enjoy creating the "final package". So, as March began, I set back to work. I wrote more for that final song, changing it from a crappy string swell into a shape-shifting tone-setter. I smoothed out some rough edges, polished off a few songs, and created a cover.

Here's the kicker: I wrapped it all up by March 13th. Even with the extra work, I'd completed the challenge. My album was started and finished in 28 days.

What I'm really proud of though, is the music. Two years ago, I built most of the album around variations on a song from my first RPM Challenge album (not all that successfully, though it's decent in places). In some years, I've simply used different versions of songs (on my 2nd RPMC album, I slowed a song down and tweaked it slightly), or fleshed out song fragments I wrote and/or recorded before the month had actually started. While I was able to rationalize all of that, and I still think it all falls within the rules (that 2nd album had well over 35 minutes of music without the slowed-down version), I always felt that I took a shortcut in a way, worked the system. Even last year, I had written the base of one song before the month began.

This year, I conceived, wrote, and recorded everything in February. Two of the songs contain riffs from other songs, but I did so on purpose, as a reference to those other songs. In all other aspects, the songs are unique. On top of that, I think this is the best group of songs I've produced. If nothing else, I think my techniques have improved to the point where some of the music sounds like it might have been played with real instruments. I'm particularly proud of the drum work. It's not perfect, but I think I've come a good distance from the Meg White simplicity of earlier efforts.

I would recommend listening on a set of high-quality headphones, as I always think music sounds better when you can immerse yourself in it and let it envelope you like a warm blanket. A warning though, at least one of the songs is quite loud, and there is quite a bit of bass throughout.

Without further ado, here's the track listing and notes:

1. Transmissibility (3:44, 120 bpm)

The first track, but the last written. Really last. The strings you hear at the beginning were the beginning of the track I'd written at home. It continued on like that, with a trombone joining in, before the whole thing ended rather abruptly. I'd had an idea of what I wanted to do; something similar, but a bit more intricate. The iMac didn't cooperate, though. I couldn't get the instruments to load properly, and when I did get them working, they still didn't work quite right (and no one in internet-land had the problems I did, apparently, as the various Mac help forums gave little help).

Transmissibility is a concept related to permeability, or transmission. I felt like it fit this song well for the way the three distinct sections flow well together, and also for the way some of the sounds/tone permeate the rest of the album.

This is one of the two songs that references a later song.

2. Ephemera (1:32, 170 bpm)

The second track, but the second-to-last written (don't worry, this pattern doesn't continue). As you'll notice, most of the album hovers around the 100 bpm mark. After 7 tracks of that, and right after working on the slow-building Anti-Idol, I wanted something fast. It kicks off with a bright electric piano playing an arpeggiated E chord, then a nice, aggressive bass kicks in. The drums build, and a fuzzy keyboard carries the lead. This is the other of the two songs that references a later song (more on that, well, later).

As most of you no doubt know, ephemera refers to things that last for only a short time. I figured that the shortest song on the album qualifies.

3. The Lost Woods (3:01, 90 bpm)

The second song I wrote, and one of the three I wrote before getting more instruments. I used a synth instrument, but didn't quite like the sound, so I played around with the settings in the instrument generator until I found something that I not only liked, but resonated with something deep inside me, something that reminded me of my childhood, of running around the woods with a wooden sword and shield, stunning strange looking creatures with my boomerang so they wouldn't shoot arrows at me before I could slay them and reap the bounty they dropped.

And yes, of course I'm talking about a video game (mostly), Namely, if you haven't guessed already, The Legend of Zelda, easily one of the best console video games of all time. The synth I tweaked sounds, to me at least, like the synth that plays the opening theme to the original Zelda. I'm sure it's not exactly the same, but enough that I knew I had to use it. And name the song in he game's honor.

The music is somewhat standard for me, if you've heard my earlier stuff. A couple of synths, some delayed drums, and that nice texture running through the entire thing, opening the song like some beast opening it's maw (more fantasy/video game stuff for you). I really like the drums, though, and the way the "Zelda Synth" is both the main melody as well as the bass line, but don't simply mimic one another.

4. Titanomachy (5:12, 110 bpm)

I don't know if this is the best song on the album, but it is one of my favorites. Listen to it with the bass up, on a good system. If the first minute or so doesn't get your blood pumping, you may want to seek medical attention, because you might be dead.

This was the first song I wrote after installing the new instruments. As a result, the crunchy guitars have a more realistic "crunch", the bass hits harder, and the drums seem to have more pop. I don't know, maybe I just used the instruments together better? In any case, I really like the sound; it's more along the lines of what I've been trying to do for the past few years. Heavy, bassy, but melodic. The basic structure is 12-bar blues, which also makes me happy.

As for the title, titanomachy refers to the war between the Olympians (Zeus, et al) and the Titans (Zeus's father Cronus, et al). Essentially, "new" Gods versus the "old" Gods. I always picture this as thundering warfare, igniting the heavens and shaking the earth. A comic book battle eons before books. The first time I listened to the original version of this song, there was so much bass I thought my car was going to rattle apart (I adjusted that a bit). Keeping with the Greek theme, it's probably wanton hubris to consider this song sounding anything close to that, but so be it.

The intro is an arpeggiated chord; the same chord can be heard towards the end of "Transmissibility". So, there's the first reference.

5. Andryala (3:06, 102 bpm)

Banjo? Banjo!

Yup, one of the new instruments I installed was a banjo (a couple version of it, actually), so, I figured I'd give it a whirl. Now, most of my music features instruments I've played (piano/keyboards mostly, along with guitars), or instruments that I'm more familiar with the playing off (woodwinds, horns, drums). The trouble I have with the drums is lack of experience actually playing them. Now, I've seen a banjo played a few times, and even held a banjo once, but I've never played the darn thing. It is similar to a guitar, but not really. Kinda like that foreign cousin who looks a lot like you, but speaks an entirely different language and puts apple butter on EVERYTHING (never let him use your phone). What makes it even more difficult is that I'm not actually playing the thing, I'm essentially playing a keyboard to make the notes come out. The fact that this didn't become one of my "lost recordings" is remarkable.

In fact, it almost did. I whipped the song off rather quickly (I think during lunch!), but when I listened on the way home, it just sounded silly. Every string was plucked the same, right in time with the drums and guitar, and it just sounded cheesy. I tweaked the banjo a bit, and I think it sounds a little more realistic now, less uniform (I really like the little slide effect; I think it adds some realism).

Andryala is a member of the daisy family. I dunno, just seemed to fit.

6. Big Sky (4:41, 99 bpm)

The first song I recorded. I think I was going for something more like "Titanomachy", but I didn't like the tone of it, so I filtered everything, to give it this sort of low-key intensity. Definitely a headphone track.

It reminds me of the sky as a storm builds; high pressure, everything is somewhat muffled by the clouds, and there's this sense of impending doom.

7. Proto (2:56, 84 bpm)

I wrote this song just before "Titanomachy", and didn't really like it. It was actually in the most danger of being scrapped. The newer instruments helped save it, though I still think it needs more work. If I were ever to do anything with these songs, I would spend the most time cleaning this one up. The "solo" at the end is the most glaring weakness to me. Believe it or not, it sounds better than when I first wrote it, but it needs work.

As it was kind of the prototype for "Titanomachy" (and to some extent, "Ephemera"), and because I feel it is unfinished in a way, I called it "Proto".

8. Wake-Up Call (4:03, 100 bpm)

Ok, I wrote this before "Proto", but am much happier with what it became. I think I like it because I took a pretty simple riff (which you hear at the beginning), and varied it throughout, using two keyboards that rarely play the same variation at the same time. I think the song has great movement.

As for the name, well, Sarah had been studying CPR for her EMT class, and I recalled that the target for chest compressions is 100 per minute. It is common for CPR instructors to tell students to hum "Another One Bites the Dust" by Queen as you apply compressions, as it has a solid beat, and is 100 bpm. Unfortunately, it is difficult to do this and not sing out loud, which, given the lyrics, could be seen as just a touch inappropriate.

So, I wrote a song that would be 100 bpm. Now, it didn't quite work out that this would be a good replacement for AOBTD (the beat just isn't that same, simple, pounding rhythm; it's too complex), the intent was still there. And yes, if you haven't figured it out yet, I'm referring to performing CPR as giving someone a wake-up call. Might be a touch inappropriate in and of itself.

9. Anti-Idol (9:59, 100 bpm)

Ah, the album-closer. This was not the last song I wrote, but there was no doubt it would be the closing track. It just feels like it wraps up the whole album. I wanted to write a song that built up slowly, working up to an explosion of sound. I'm not sure that it came out exactly how I envisioned it in my head, but I really like the way it sounds. The syth swirls and swells, the bass drops in and chugs through as the rest of the instruments prepare themselves for the final movement.

The guitar riff that plays after the hi-hat fill towards the end (when the drums come up out of the phased sound) is the same as the main riff in Ephemera. It's not the easiest to hear, as the echo on the synth in Ephemera changes the sound, but trust me, that's the second reference.

And that's the album. I hope you enjoy it. Sarah seems to like it, so that makes it successful in my book!

A Late Quote Book, An Early Prediction

2010-09-16T10:03:00.007-04:00

Another UNH hockey season is in the books. It started promising with an 8-1 thrashing of some Canadian team, but we quickly learned what exhibition games are worth as we watched the team open with a loss to RPI, a loss and a tie against Miami, big losses to Wisconsin, and just TWO wins in their first ten games. They're only regular season non-conference win was against Dartmouth (woo, another RiverStone). It looked as though the Wildcats would miss home ice, and possibly be on the outside looking in at the NCAA tourney.

However, with a strong middle/second half of the season, fueled by a number of exhilarating comebacks, the team stormed back into the home ice race, and then, into contention for the Regular Season title, which they wrapped up with a thrilling come-from-behind tie against Boston College in the final home game. A loss the next night still left them in precarious position regarding the NCAA's, though. In game 1 of the HE quarterfinals, they once again called upon the comeback magic, scoring 3 goals (and an empty-netter) to beat UVM 7-4. Unfortunately, they wouldn't score another goal, losing a pair of 1-0 games, the second, and deciding, game in OT.

After some nail biting, UNH made the National Tourney, placed in the Albany Regional, and playing Cornell in the opening game. I chose not to make the trek out to Albany, instead choosing to watch the games at a local sports bar with Jay and Sarah. Good food, beer, and lots of hockey. Honestly, I wasn’t sure UNH would beat Cornell, having already lost to them once earlier in the season (and being completely outmatched), and even if they did, I worried about Denver, who took on bottom-seeded RIT.

Yeah, I was wrong a lot that day. UNH stunned Cornell, cruising past them with a 6-2 win. This was slightly overshadowed by RIT, who first stunned everyone by beating Denver, then stunned, well, pretty much just UNH fans by crushing the Wildcats. With 13:22 to go in the 2^nd it was 1-1. 95 seconds later, it was 4-1, and the season was all but over. At least I’m pretty sure it was. Jackass bartender changed the channel on us. I don’t walk out on games, and I don’t change the channel just because it’s obvious the ‘Cats are going to lose. Not to mention the fact that this was the FINAL game of their season, and the last that some would play in the blue and white. I wanted to see the end.

Anyway, it sucked. Just a frustrating way to end the season. I have come to realize something, though. I am not playing. It sounds obvious, and I’m sure certain people who might read this are probably saying, “no shit”, but it is important to note. I’ve witnessed many fans treat being a fan of a certain team like it gives them some advantage over fans of another team, simply because their team is better. They might not even come out and say it explicitly, but the nature of their comments and actions is one of, “My team won, therefore I’ve accomplished more than you, because your team didn’t.”

RIT fans were apparently telling UNH fans that they suck because of the score of the game. Really? How many goals did any of those fans score? Right, the exact same number those UNH fans gave up: ZERO.

Something else I’ve come to understand is that rooting for your team involves believing that they’re going to win, and that they can beat the teams they have to play. Yes, it is good to have some perspective – I’m not going to claim that UNH could beat the Bruins, or anything like that – but it is OK to think your team is going to win, and that other fans’ teams are going to lose, and that if you’re wrong about this, it doesn’t mean you’re an idiot or a moron. It’s College Hockey, and I’m just a regular fan. I’m not paid to analyze the sport; I don’t have anything riding on their performance other than having more fun when my team wins. I have no say in who coaches the team, nor in who plays or when. I love my team, and I’m going to pick them to win every game they play. Regardless of the outcome, I will still love watching them play. I love hockey, and I am a UNH fan.

That was longer than I'd anticipated. So, without further ado, here's the 2009-2010 Hoser Quote Book, followed by my first-ever prediction for an upcoming season.

05/09/09 Hoser Movie Fest
Rouge: Ricky, you've been remembering my first name lately, right?
Ricky: um...Rouge?

Matt: Just be careful of his speen.
Darci: What part of the body is the "speen"?
Matt: You don't want to know.

"That's a couch, Jay. It's a loveseat for fat people." -matt

06/14/09 Canobie Lake Park
Crash: Hoops have to go to the back!
Jeff: It's like Rosa Parks in here.

08/08/09 Hoserfest
Jeff: everyone goes bush-diving once in a while.

Jay (to Matt): we should do doggystyle.

10/10/09 UNH @ RPI
Ricky: So, George calls the Sislo, Leblanc, and Butler the hero line.
Matt: Yeah, because he wants to be in a sandwich with them.

"Exit light,
Enter George.
Take my hand,
We're off to Dalton Speelman land!" - George's alternate lyrics to "Enter Sandman"

10/17/09 Miami @ UNH
"...and boobs the size of his head!" -Ricky

"um, I forgot how to unbutton my pants." -Matt

01/09/10 UMA @ UNH
(After S-E-X) "Stop sucking and put it in!" -Matt

01/16/10 Dartmouth vs UNH @ VWA
"That's alright, that's OK, Paul Osgood lives in your town. Suckers!" -Matt

01/30/10 MC @ UNH
"It's 'hit or hit on' with Darci." -Jeff

"Gib came at the last second, or else you would have." -Jeff

03/27/10 Albany Regional
"I feel like a fat turtle." -Ricky

"I'll sleep in his little boys room." -George

The Prediction:

I tend to avoid making predictions. I’m wrong a lot (usually just with little in-game comments about what’s going to happen), so, probably through some silly superstitious instinct, I don’t like to predict outcomes, especially without knowing much about the teams involved. This year, I’m changing that.

Now, I say this is my “first-ever” season prediction, but that’s not entirely true. This is my first-ever college hockey season prediction. I’ve made one other, and that one I was talked into by my then brother-in-law. It was Christmas time in 2003, the team in question was the 2004 Red Sox, and the prediction was just four simple words (presented here in alphabetical order): ‘is’ ‘the’ ‘this’ and ‘year’.

Given what I wrote above, can I make any other prediction? I don’t think so, and so here we go:

2010-2011 UNH Wildcats: THIS IS THE YEAR!

That’s right. I am picking the UNH men’s hockey team to win it all this year. I don’t know if they’ll win the HE Regular Season. I don’t know if they’ll win the HE tourney. I have no reason to think they'll win: they have big question marks in just about every category, don't seem to have the offense of past years, have a solid defense, but an inexperienced goalie, and no real "big name" talent. I am, however, predicting that they will win the National Championship. The blue and white of Durham, NH will be hoisting the hardware in Minnesota this coming April.

Now, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I had some doubts throughout that season, and had resigned myself, sitting down to watch games 4 and 5 of the ALCS that they would lose, but the important thing was making the prediction. It felt good to be positive. Some people will tell you they stay pessimistic to soften the blow if/when the team loses. I posit that this is bunk, and frankly, doesn’t work. I’ve been a pessimist, and let me tell you, losing when you expect to sucks every bit as much as when it’s unexpected. The only difference is you already felt negatively about the team.

Well, screw that. What a miserable existence. One of my favorite quotes, often attributed to Albert Einstein, goes, “I’d rather be an optimist and wrong than a pessimist and right”. And frankly, what joy can be had in predicting that a team won’t win? Only one wins each year. Your odds are much higher picking a loser than a winner.

So this year, I’m turning the page. I’m behind my team. I won’t be deterred by a bad start, or a bad November, December, January, or February. We’ve seen numerous examples of teams looking mediocre in the regular season, then turning it on in the postseason. “Just make the NCAA’s” is the mantra these days. Hell, UNH in 2009 looked dead in the water after being swept out of the HE tourney by 5^th seed BC, then played the best hockey we’ve seen from them since 2003 in upsetting UND and battling BU. Though they came up short in that game, they took the best team in the country to the wire, and left everything on the ice. They looked that way this past year against Cornell, only to come out and lay an egg against RIT. I remain hopeful that they will find that spark again.

If I’m wrong, it will only be about my prediction. I refuse to accept that making it, or feeling this way is wrong. And, I’ll predict the same thing next year, too.

08-09 Season Wrap-up and Quote Book

2009-04-17T11:47:00.000-04:00

It's that time of year again, the Frozen Four is over, and it's time to pause and look back on the year that was in UNH hockey. October started out well, with wins over Wisconsin (turned out to not be that big a deal) and BU (turned out to be the only one we'd get against them), but our celebrations died as the team could only muster one win in the entire month of November, and that was a 4-3 squeaker against cellar-dwelling Providence. Non-NCAA-bound Minnesota beat and tied us, Foster went down, and his back up gave up 8 goals each to Lowell and BC, we lost to Merrimack, and blew yet another 3-goal 2nd period lead to BC. November was uglier than Alfond Arena. Things looked grim. UNH might not get home ice in the HE quarters. They might not win 20 games. They might not make the NCAA's.

December, though, was a month of hope. UNH swept a Lowell team that had beat them handily a few weeks earlier, scored 4 goals in the 1st against Holy Cross, gave up the next 4 goals through the second, then scored 5 goals in the 3rd to win 9-4. My sister got re-married. And, a certain Hoser asked out a certain BU fan (and she said yes).

After the November slump, UNH only lost 4 regular season games (2 to this year's powerhouse, BU; 1 to national semifinalist UVM; and one to Maine, at the Verizon, which sucked), snagged the 3rd seed from UVM, locked up a berth to the NCAAs, and finished the regular season with 19 wins. Getting swept from the playoffs by BC sucked, but the extra week of rest seemed to pay off, as they came out hungry against UND in the first round of what turned out to be the most insane NCAA tournament in memory, that saw comeback after comeback, and enough late-game heroics to give Charles Atlas a heart attack.

UNH was not above giving their fans heart issues, as they scored with .1 remaining on the clock (that's one tenth of a second - that's the absolute latest you can score) to tie their game against North Dakota, before winning 45 seconds into OT (and in doing so, secured yet another 20-win season). This never happens to us. UNH gets scored on in the final second. They collapse when down two goals. They give up empty netters. They lose by four. Not this team; not this year. Down 5-3 halfway through the 3rd, UNH kept fighting, kept the pressure on, kept playing their hardest. They scored with exactly nine minutes left, and did something remarkable with 5.7 seconds left in the game - they won a faceoff!

However, UNH was also not immune to the heartbreak. In one of the only lopsided higher-seed victories (hell, one of the only higher-seeded victories this year), BU whomped Ohio State to face UNH in the regional final. It was a mismatch on paper from nearly every conceivable angle. BU was the best team in the country. UNH was somewhere in the middle of the pack, and possibly overrated, at that. The Wildcats dug down deep, though, and played the hardest, and probably best, game they played all year, scraping together the goaltending and defense to hold BU to 1 goal through 59 minutes. On the other end, though, Kieran Millan played probably his best game of the tourney, also holding UNH to just 1 goal. Overtime loomed, until a bad line change led to a UNH penalty, and a well-set-up power play led to a BU goal with just 15 seconds left. UNH pulled Foster, and drove the puck into the BU zone, but just didn't have enough time to pot the equalizer, their hard work and good fortune eclipsed by that of BU.

They left everything on the ice, though, and lost to a better team. A roller-coaster season ended with a roller-coaster NCAA tourney, and a team whose own fans expected little from, gave a generation of UNH fans the game of a lifetime with a last-moment comeback, and earned eternal pride for their efforts and composure in the face of a heart-breaking loss. I would like to thank the entire team, but especially those leaving us this year. JVR, best of luck in the AHL/NHL. Hopefully you mature a little, and learn how to use your size effectively (and find some line mates that can match your skill set). To the seniors: not the most talented group we've seen, but the leadership (minus Charlebois) was as solid as any class to come through here in the past ten years. Thank you for the effort, and best of luck in your future endeavors. A special note to Jerry Pollastrone: if you are still blaming yourself, you are the only one. Every UNH fan appreciates your efforts, both that weekend, and in the previous four years.

Of course, BU, being the party crashers they are, had to outdo UNH (and really everyone), by trailing 3-1 with just over a minute remaining before turning the afterburners on and scoring (what should be the trademark of this team) two goals in under a minute to force OT and eventually win the National Championship. Jerks.

Seriously though, it was an awesome Final, and entirely befitting of the craziness of this year's tourney. Congrats to the Terriers. As time goes by, I'm sure my envy and jealousy will diminish (until my next trip to Agganis, when I see the new banner). *sigh* Someday, UNH...someday...

Ah, I'm getting down, and that's not the point of this post. The Frozen Four was spectacular. I call it the final party of the hockey season, and this year was no exception. We had booze, hockey (lots of it), monuments/sightseeing, booze, food, inappropriate comments, booze, inappropriate touching, and yes, even some appropriate touching. In short, it was a great time! My second favorite HE team won the title (making a lot of my friends, including a Very Special Female BU Fan, very very happy), and I got to see Providence and BC fans sporting BU championship gear.

Frustrating at times, it was a fun season overall. While I am looking forward to next year, I am looking forward to free weekends to spend relaxing with my friends (hoser and non-hoser alike), especially a Very Special BU Fan.

And, without further rambling, here is the moment we've all been waiting for, the 2008-09 Quote Book:

10/04/08 - St. Francis Xavier @ UNH
Matt: I think Rob's drunk.
Darci: I think Rob's gay.

10/17/18 - RPI @ UNH
"I'm in the right gender!" - Darci

"Good to see you have the cognitive skills of an eighteen month-year old...dammit." - Rob

11/07/08 UNH @ Minnesota
Scott: Yeah, she doesn't have any common sense.
Gib: Woah.
Scott: what? It's Darci.

Darci: I only understood about half the words you said.
Scott: I think i only said half the words i said.

BU @ UML
"It's like a school full of Keith B's." - Matt

11/14/08 UNH @ UML
"What about Sarah Palin's carpet?" - Matt

12/11/08 Holy Cross @ UNH
"I got bits of Adam's drumstick in my eyes for years." -Scott

"It's not rape if you yell surprise." -variuos

01/04/09 UNH @ Maine
"Competition? They can't say 'game'? What is this, the generic version for any event? Chess matches? Well, it's Maine, so checkers." -Matt

01/17/09 UNH vs Dartmouth
"Oh, I didn't know what you were shoving in my face!" -Darci

01/24/09 BU @ UNH
"I'm not sure if he's gay or from Long Island." -Sarah

01/30/09 UVM @ UNH
"And, if my shirt did come off in celebration, my nipples would not be directed at Minnesota fans." -Matt

02/14/09 UNH @ PC
Matt:It actually would be a good stripper song. It's all about sex.
Darci: Yeah, isn't this the one with the girl eating the cherry pie?
Matt: No, that's "Cherry Pie".
Darci: Oh yeah.

"Just because I'm wearing the Smith jersey, doesn't mean I'm really here." -Matt

02/21/09 UNH @ BC
"I can't believe I fit that much inside me!" -Darci

02/27/09 UNH @ MC
"I generate a lot of force with my stick." -Matt

George: he's got a long stick, and he uses it
Scott: that's what she said.

02/28/09 MC @ UNH
Rob: Stop talking Jon, so we can have sex!
Mike: Yeah, shut up and take it!

03/06/09 UNH @ UVM
Darci: Remember 2007? I lost it in my pants!
Matt: Haven't we all, at some point, lost it in our pants?

Darci: Are you two touching back there?
Gib: No, I just felt the vibration.

George: You guys are erroneous. Erroneous!

03/20/09 Hockey East Semifinals
Shrader: I've never had one.
Darci: They're hard to swallow.

"Get out of my pants!" -Darci

"This is no different than real life!" -Shrader, after putting on Darci's glasses

"Half your age plus seven. So, nine." -Shrader

03/21/09 HE finals
"Hey, that does scratch your tongue." -Shrader

"Hey, you two are cute. Can I have your boyfriend?" -homeless guy

"HELP ME to GET DRUNK" -homeless guy's sign

"Flip-flops are not tank tops." -Sarah

03/29/09 UNH vs. BU, NE Regional final
"I'm gonna rip the T off your shirt so it just says 'Boson'!" -Scott

04/08/09 Frozen Four Wednesday
"For 25 cents, I'll do this for you all night." -Jay

"I swallowed, and I thought that should count!" -Suzie

"You're gonna have all the gumballs you can handle." -Greg

04/09/09 Frozen Four Semifinals
Drunk BU Fan #1: MY NAME IS JAMES!
Drunk BU Fan #2: Dude, that doesn't even make sense.
Drunk BU Fan #1: Yes, it does.
Drunk BU Fan #2: No. It doesn't.
Drunk BU Fan #1: Really?
Drunk BU Fan #2: Yeah.
Drunk BU Fan #1: Oh.

04/10/09 Frozen Four Off-Day
"Look, it's the hard-on collider." -Ricky

04/11/09 Frozen Four Finals
"If we're gonna hammer on Darci, it's gotta be a group effort." -Jay

Shrader: If BU wins, you know what Klein, Brian, and I are gonna do, right?
Dave: Make out?

"My ass is going to be sore by the time I get home." -Darci

"It has frozen ice in it." -Darci

Stalker Blog!

2009-03-23T23:01:00.008-04:00

I was recently informed that I've been publishing a stalker blog for the past...well, I guess the past few years (he wasn't very specific about when I stalk-blogged). It got me thinking, and I realized that I hadn't even published anything in a while, so why not prove him right, and do some virtuo-blog-stalkeration.

Where to begin? Well, why not with the obvious? Celery.

Kinda bland. Tend to need something else paired with it to give it some flavor. Fortunately, it seems to agree, and grows in a convenient U shape. Best with peanut butter. Often gets put in salads, but honestly, I'd rather have broccoli. And I don't like broccoli. (Unless I'm chopping it.)

Following in the same vein, we have a vegetable that gained a degree of noteriety in Tim Burton's Batman. That's right, it's that vegetable which, when it belongs to another man, you are not supposed to rub - rhubarb.

What's fascinating to me about this stalk is that someone said, "Y'know, I bet this would be good with strawberries. In a pie!" And even stranger, this person was right! Strawberry-rhubarb pie, while not my favorite, is quite tasty, especially if you close your eyes and try not to think about the ingredients. It's kind of like eating British/Scottish food, except it's actually good.

Moving a bit away from the edible plants, we come to the stalk of a plant that is commonly misconstrued as a cactus, but is actually a flower - the Agave. (click the picture to see the whole thing)

It's used in some medicines, and in an energy drink produced by Snapple. The juice from some species can cause dermititis, though, so only consume if you trust the source. Neat photo, though, eh?

On the subject of stalks with supposedly medicinal purposes, here's the stalk of a plant called the Spotted Joe-Pye Weed, which some believe can help cure Typhus Fever:

And, of course, there are various types of beans that grow on stalks.

This picture is obviously not real, but an illustration from the childrens' story, "Jack and the Beanstalk", which tells the story of Jack Parker, who sells off his prozed recruit, Chris Bourque, for a handful of beans which the fans knock from his hand. They take root where they fall, growing overnight into a beanstalk that Jack climbs to a land above the clouds. There, he meets a giant named Eric, who he recruits to play hockey for them. Or something like that. It's been a while since I've read it, and it's getting late. I may have mixed up some details.

I normally enjoy the show, but a couple of things really bugged me this morning...

2008-12-29T22:45:00.003-05:00

First and '07:
I enjoy listening to Fox Sports Radio on my way to work in the morning. I enjoy Steve Czaban's humor, and his rapport with his cohost and producer. However, his consistent harping on the Patriots over what amounted to filming from the wrong location made me shut off the radio this morning for a good 10 minutes as he ranted about "Belicheat" and how the commissioner screwed up the punishment. It shows a clear lack of understanding of what exactly the Patriots "crime" was last season; the same lack of understanding that has permeated through the media and down into the fans. Yes, the Pats were filming defensive signals, but that is not what they got in trouble for. They got in trouble for videotaping from the sidelines. They could have been filming two hours of Ed Hochuli's bulging biceps, and they'd have been breaking the same rule.

A few seasons back, when the Pats were in the midst of their back-to-back Superbowl run, they lost to the lowly (at the time) Dolphins. Miami made Tom Brady look terrible. Dolphins defensive players after the game proudly announced that they had flummoxed Brady so effectively because they had tapes of his audible calls. No fines were levied against the Dolphins, no investigations launched. Why not? Because those signal calls are out there for everyone to hear. Many of them are audible on television broadcast. If you're going to shout something loud enough for everyone to hear it, you better expect them to take note of it in some way, and try to use it against you. The same goes for defensive signals.

Before this year, when radios were implemented on defense, all defensive plays/coverage had to be sent in using very visible hand signals. There's nothing stopping the other team from seeing those signals and trying to interpret them. If you don't think nearly every coach in the league was trying to do just that, you are fooling yourself. And, if you don't think many of them used legal videotaping to do so, you probably also think Wade Phillips is actually a good coach.

The Pats were punished appropriately for the offense they committed - videotaping from the sidelines. I would expect the host of a nationally syndicated sports radio show to understand a little more about what happened than the average fan. I don't mind the gloating that the Pats missed the playoffs (which he did), but please don't try to write it off as some great karmic victory. Especially with the argument that "the team they were caught cheating against" losing to eliminate them was some sort of punishment from the football gods. What about the Jaguars? Had they won, the Pats would be in as the Wild Card team. It came down to the Pats making a couple of critical errors (Dave Thomas's penalties and Gaffney's drop against the Colts, a poor start and terrible D against the Jets) that lost them a couple of games. They won their final 4 games just to stay alive, and managed to win 11 games without Tom Brady, and with a defense that was mediocre-at-best to start the year and wasn't any better after losing nearly 75% of their starters to injury over the course of the season. Yeah, the Jets loss was the final nail in the Pats' 2008 coffin, since their game ended after the Jags/Ravens, but it wasn't any sort of "retribution" from the football gods. It was Brett Favre and the Jets being Brett Favre and the Jets (don't forget, their own playoff lives were on the line, and they still crapped the bed).

It's a minor irritation that this is still coming up; that is to be expected in the sports world. It was a big story, and will never go away. What is more frustrating is how quickly everyone lost sight of what rule the Pats actually broke, and how people in the national media - people whose words influence sports fans all across the country - still disseminate this erroneous information, perpetuating the myth that Belichick and the Patriots are vile, underhanded cheaters.

2nd and '08:

Later in the segment, Czaban asked what fanbase felt worse this morning, Pats fans or Cowboys fans.

How is that even a question?

The Pats started the season as favorites, and then Brady got hurt. Most Pats fans at that point predicted they wouldn't make the playoffs. People were optimistic when Cassel showed he can actually play in the NFL, but with the aforementioned terrible D, no one but the biggest homers thought it was a lock that they'd make the playoffs, especially with the rest of the AFC East playing so well. And then the injuries started to pile up. The season really felt like 2002, the season after their first Superbowl win, when they didn't make the playoffs (coincidentally, they needed help from a Favre-led team). People are upset and disappointed, but no one's really shocked. The Pats won these last 4 weeks. They did what they had to do. They unfortunately put themselves in a position where they needed help, and didn't get it. Oh well, time to figure out how to shore up that defense, keep the offense rolling and make another run next year.

The Cowboys, on the other hand, had their lives in their own hands, and failed miserably. They let the Ravens slip through their hands (literally; have you ever seen tackling that bad? I'm pretty sure they thought Saturday games were two-hand touch), and then, when they were in the ultimate win-or-go-home game, they laid down and got their heads handed to them.

I'm ok with the way the Pats' season ended. They did what they had to do in weeks 14-17. Things didn't break their way. The Cowboys gagged and choked away their season. I will guarantee this: Dallas area sports talk radio stations will be flooded with calls for Wade Phillips' head. Boston area sports talk radio will get calls about why Belichick isn't being considered for coach of the year.

Alright, look, I'm sick of this. Enough.

2008-12-24T11:27:00.003-05:00

Yeah, this is to you, Red Sox fans in Boston, and the rest of the 351 cities and towns of Massachusetts. Not to mention the rest of New England, the US, and the world. I'm sick and tired of hearing how devastated you are that the Red Sox failed to sign Mark Teixeira, and how it's even worse that he went to the Yankees. Stop it. Stop your whining, your hand-wringing. Stop crying in your egg-nog. Pull out your World Series DVDs, pop them in, then throw on a santa hat and spend some time with your family. It's Christmas, for Christ's sake!

Seriously, can anyone tell me stats on Teixeira? What did he hit last year? Year before? How many home runs? I'm not going to say he's not a very, very good ballplayer, or that the Red Sox don't need him. Think of how scary the Sox lineup would be with him:

Ellsbury
Pedroia
Youkilis
Ortiz/Teixeira
Teixeira/Lowell (there's no guarantee they'd have traded Lowell and not Ortiz)
Drew
Bay
Lowrie/auto-out
auto-out

Not too shabby.

Here's the thing, though - remove Teixeira, and you have:

Ellsbury
Pedroia
Youkilis
Ortiz
Lowell
Drew
Bay
Lowrie/auto-out
auto-out

Really, not much worse. Virtually the same line-up that came up just short of making the World Series this past year, even with an injured Lowell, and a banged-up Ortiz, Youk, and Lowrie. Hard to see much of the problem there.

Let's see if I can put this another way. Let's go back to the 2003 offseason. Who would you rather have, Alex Rodriguez, or Nomar? Nomar's production had slid, most claimed he wasn't the same after his wrist injury, and many argued he was injury-prone. You'd probably want ARod. Let's take it a step further. ARod or Orlando Cabrera? Did you Red Sox fans even know who Orlando Cabrera was before 2004? I would doubt it. You'd take ARod in a heartbeat. Far better offensively, far better defensively. The Red Sox tried to get him, couldn't and settled for starting the year with Nomar, and finishing it with Cabrera.

It was a similar situation. The Sox wanted to make a trade with the Rangers. Essentially, the Sox would lose Nomar and Manny, and pick up ARod and Magglio Ordoñez, beefing up their defense, while not hurting their offense. They wanted ARod to take a pay cut. ARod was willing, but the union nixed the deal. Steinbrenner said, "We'll pay full price," and the Yankees swooped in and snatched what would have been the Red Sox's prizes off-season acquisition.

Red Sox fans were heartbroken. The Yankees had done it to us again. Aaron Boone drove a stake into our chests in the '03 postseason, and his replacement was pounding it in further. Fans and analysts predicted doom and gloom for the Sox, while trumpeting the move as the one that would return the Yanks to glory.

Might have all been a bit premature.

Since then, the Bronx Bombers have only sniffed the World Series once, and haven't even been back to the ALCS since 2004. Meanwhile, the Red Sox, feeling like they got snaked on that deal, dejected, abused, losers yet again, have won 2 of the last 5 titles, and have been to the ALCS 3 times.

Would the Red Sox have been better in 2004 with ARod? Maybe, maybe not. That's not the point, though. The point is that everyone thought the Sox blew it, that the Yankees were winners once again. It didn't work out that way. So, why is everyone so positive this will?

The Red Sox made a couple of large offers that Teixeira turned down. He ended up going to New York for about 1 million dollars more per year (that's less than his agent makes per year off the contract). Could it be that he just didn't want to come to Boston? The Sox could have upped the offer, but you have to believe that they looked at what they already had, and said, "it's not worth breaking the bank to go after this guy who is going to throw our clubhouse into such disarray. We made a competitive offer, if he gets more money elsewhere, so be it." I'm not sure how you can fault them on that.

And can we please drop this whole "The Yankees are trying to buy another championship/evil empire" crap? Look back at the start of this current Yankees dynasty - mostly home-grown players (just for kicks, take a look at the 2004 Red Sox and try to count the home-grown players on the playoff roster...3, I think?). Yes, they spend money. Yes, they spend more money than anyone. They also have more money than just about anyone, and are willing to spend it in order to win. The horror!

Let me tell you something - that is not evil. Go ask a Twins fan about that. Their owner is one of the wealthiest in baseball, and yet, they can't hold on to players because they can't afford them...something doesn't had up there. Or Expos fans about Jeffry Loria. Yeah, those guys are closer to evil than an ownership willing to spend a little money.

Basically, this all comes down to the fact that it was the Yankees that signed him. Had it been any other team in MLB, Sox fans would have shrugged it off and focused on who is going to be catching next year. (Want to talk about holes in the lineup? As of right now, the Red Sox have no catcher. Literally. No one. Might be something worth looking into.) Instead, the Yankees got him, and suddenly, "That's the guy we had to have!"

Uh, no. It's a guy we'd have liked to have. The Red Sox made an attempt, and didn't get him. They will move on, and so should we. Really. Drop it, and have a Merry Christmas.

A Revision, Perhaps

2008-05-28T21:27:00.002-04:00

I've been told, quite adamantly in a couple of cases, that I shouldn't give up on Gentle Art. So, perhaps I should revise my last post, and say that I am taking a hiatus from posting for a while, after which I will try to post more regularly.

Is Anyone Reading This?

2008-05-13T10:03:00.007-04:00

Probably not.

Can't say I blame you. Between my infrequent posts, and the majority of my posts being about nothing in particular, I don't see why anyone would be checking this blog with any sort of regularity.

As I see it, there are two options in front of me:

1. Post more often
2. Give up

The first option may work. I enjoy writing, and there is plenty of stuff going on in the world and in my life that I could post about.

However, does the world need yet another opinion on the news of the day? There are about 15 million other people who would be blogging about the same things as me, so what's the point? Especially since many of them do it better than I ever could. As for stuff going on in my life, well, I can see more of a point in blogging about the same thing as 15 million other people than about things that only affect myself or my dull life (or lack thereof). Nothing I have to say is all that important.

So, I think I'm going to go with option 2. I'm giving up. My blogging experiment has failed. I'm pulling the plug.

The Gentle Art of Making Enemies is a song on Faith No More's "King For a Day, Fool For a Lifetime" (I would recommend the album; It's a solid rock album from the mid-90's, though nothing like the song "Epic", which was their big hit). It is no longer an active blog.

The Gentle Art of Making Enemies is closed.

How Do I Reach These Kids?: The 2007-08 Quote Book

2008-04-14T22:45:00.004-04:00

Howdy sports fans, welcome back to the off-season. Congratulations to Boston College for bringing the NCAA title back East. Hopefully UNH can do that one of these years (not that I'm holding my breath, or anything :( ).

Anyway, the end of the season brings many things, one of which is the highly-anticipated posting of that document which has thrilled and entertained litterally 10's of people over the past 7 years - the annual Quote Book!

This year, the quotes are a little sparse, in part because many of the regular Hosers were not very regular (a couple of long road trips, coupled with nasty storms - not to mention the gestation of the littlest hoser - kept our crowd light at times), but also because I took over full-time cowbell duties, which didn't leave me much time to record quotes, but here they are, in all of their minimalistic, out-of-context glory:

Hoserfest '07
“How'd you stay up when you were on top of me?” -Nick

Erinn: It's not as easy as it looks.
Matt: Just like Darci

11/2 UNH @ NU
Matt: go sparkly!
Darci: you gotta shake your sparkly. I'll sparkly your 23 for you.
Matt: you can sparkly anything of mine you want.

Darci: uh, JVR, you need the puck to score.
Matt: no, he just needs a bunny.

11/9 UML @ UNH
Darci: Foster's ready for the motorboat.

11/10 BC @ UNH
Doug: Rob, if she doesn't break up with you by the end of the game, we've failed you as friends and brothers.

11/24 Brown @ UNH
Darci (plays a 7): seven.
Matt (plays an ace): eleven...or, eight.

“Just because Darci's flat, and has holes, it doesn't mean she's a cribbage board.” -Doug

“Well, we better go set up our booth before Shrek and Fiona get here.” -Scott

11/30 UML @ UNH
"I think my pants are too tight to tuck my shirt in. Though they're looser now, since I went to the bathroom." -Darci

12/01 UNH @ UML
"Tell her she can sleep with the floor on shrader." -Jay

12/29 UNH @ UND
UND fan: You know, the NCAA doesn't allow cowbells during play.
Jeff: Since when do you care what the NCAA thinks?

UND fan: UNH sucks!
Scott: Look at your 10 million dollar scoreboard!

1/4/08 UNH @ UMass
"I outsmarted a dog! Yes!" -Rob

2/8/08 UNH @ Maine
"His is really wide." -Darci

"Others just blow." -Scott

Mike: That explains the roofie in the bottom.
Jeff: A roofie? That's optimistic.

2/16 PC @ UNH
"This is why we can't have nice things." -Rob

3/15 UMass @ UNH
Darci: You jabbed me in the neck.
Jay: Well, where am I supposed to jab you?

"Oh no, it's all floppy." -Jay

4/9/08 Frozen Four Wednesday
"I hate extra-small. I can't get my hand in there." -Jay

"I can't do it if you make me laugh." -Darci

"I got messy. White stuff all over my hand." -Darci

"I just wanted Matt to feel left-in." -shrader

"Shouldn't he be bleeding somewhere?" –Greg

"Come over and make me bleed." -shrader's text to Greg (sort of)

4/10 Frozen Four Thursday
"Around the cone come the Weiners!" -rink announcer

4/11 Frozen Four Friday
"No, don't take my cherry!" -Darci

“What what?” –various

“3uck you!” -various

"I like violation, but this is ridiculous!" –Jenna

4/12 Frozen Four Saturday
“That is a racist call!” –The Darkness

And there you have it. Another year come and another year gone. This was a fun season, with a lot of laughs, and probably a lot more quotes that could have made it in here. I hope you all have enjoyed it.

It's been a long season...

2008-04-12T13:44:00.001-04:00

It’s been a long season, one that I am ready to see march off into the darkness of memory, to not be thought of again until next August, when we are mired in the sticky heat of yet another New England summer, and look forward with renewed hope and optimism toward the changing of the seasons and the first drop of the puck.

It’s been a long season, and at times a strange one. We watched as UNH dropped yet another exhibition game to a Canadian university, then sweep a highly-regarded Colorado College team at the Whit. We saw a game at BU that opened our Hockey East play and featured the prettiest goal of the season from the #2 overall draft pick, James vanRiemsdyk. We saw Northeastern and UMass climb to the top of the standings, the NU Huskies beating UNH twice on our own ice. BC players were dropping like flies. BU looked talented but disjointed (and had no goalie). UNH split the season series with Lowell. UNH swept the season series against Maine, BU, and BC, something that has never happened before.

It’s been a long season, featuring long road trips, as many seasons do, but none quite like this year. We followed the team to North Dakota, flying out to Minneapolis, and driving up to Grand Forks. We spent one night in North Dakota, watched two games, and came home. We drove through an ice storm to get to Burlington, then made the foolhardy decision to drive home that night instead of finding a cheap hotel room and waiting for the storm to pass and the roads to clear. We drove out to Orono, Maine, the godforsaken locale of our biggest rival – for a two game series, driving home after the second game in order to try and beat the winter storm that was approaching.

It’s been a long season, in which we learned a great many things. Coming back from the Maine trip we learned that deer like to congregate by the side of backwoods highways in the middle of snow storms. We also learned that my car can handle hitting a deer, at slow, non-lethal, speeds. We learned that Maine fans may hate us bitterly, but manage to show more class than Vermont fans, who hate us bitterly but have nothing to show for it. We learned that WCHA teams don’t shake hands after the first game of a 2-game series, and that the players’ parents can get quite enraged if you inform them that Hockey East follows a slightly different convention. We learned that our family-friendly women’s game cheering is vulgar. And that some of our fellow fans enjoy our rendition of “Oh Canada”. We’ve learned that certain of our friends are apparently a little crazy for Winnie the Pooh, or are determined to instill a deep-seated fear of the honey-loving bear and his friends in their soon-to-be-born child.

It’s been a long season, and one that ultimately ended, as so many of our seasons do in heartbreak and misery, but not necessarily just because of the results on the ice. Watching BC come back from a 4-1 deficit to knock us out of the Hockey East tournament was painful, as was the following Friday, watching the last at-large bid in the tournament beating UNH at their own game, playing an opportunistic, high-scoring game and sending the team home early once again, but this pain is more about the team, more external. There was also personal heartbreak and pain, internal, private, sometimes unseen by anyone other than those who felt it.

And that is why I will be glad to see this season end. Yes, we can look back on the great games, like coming from behind to beat North Dakota on their own ice or sweeping Maine at the Alfond; or the high points, like surviving the drives through multiple snowstorms, or simply getting to see games in North Dakota’s epic Ralph Englestadt Arena. And yes, we can look back and say it was a pretty good, fairly enjoyable season, overall, but the low moments – the stress, the anguish, the illnesses, the heartache – they all overshadow the high points, and the more the hockey season lingers, the more I am in this world, the more those thoughts stay fresh in my mind. I love The Hosers, and come August I will be excited to see them again, but for my own state of mind, I need to not see them for a while, to take a break from certain thoughts that hound me like vicious wolves, with blood-stained fangs waiting to tear into my soul and rend it to shreds.

I need some time away from everything, some time to settle my thoughts, straighten my head, so to speak. This season has taken its toll on me, but I think I can learn from my mistakes, be stronger next year, maybe not be so worn out that all I want to do is lie in bed and avoid all human contact.

It’s been a long season, and one I am ready to see end.

What the hell is Kolmogorov Complexity?

2008-03-11T21:23:00.002-04:00

February is RPM month! I can hear you out there, “What the hell are you talking about?” Why, the RPM Challenge, of course! Record an album (10 songs or 35 minutes of music) in the month of February. It’s not a contest, just a challenge. And a lot of fun. I completed the challenge last year, and have been anxiously looking forward to it this year. And, as I did last year, I’ve decided to blog about my album, describing my thoughts on the project, and what it all means to me. Hopefully you listen to it and come away with your own feelings on each song – to that end, I would suggest you listen to the songs before reading about them, so that my explanations don’t influence your listening.

You can listen to the entire album for free, right here.

First off, the name. Broken Robot Factory. Where’d that come from? Well, last year, I recorded for the RPM Challenge as P, as that is the simplest of my various nickname, and I thought it would be somewhat unique. Yeah, not so much. It was fine for the challenge, but after I was done, and tried to upload my music, I ran into a slight problem. It seems that about 15 years ago, some loser named Johnny Depp teamed up with a musician or two and started a band. A band called P. Why anyone in their right mind would call a band P is beyond me. Regardless, I had to change my artist name.

Now, my original album title last year was “A Broken Row-bot Rows in Circles”, because I liked the row-bot/robot pun, and I had envisioned the album cover as a drawing of a row boat in a lake, with a robot bolted to the bottom. Instead of arms, the robot would have oars, one of which would be broken off and missing (probably floating in the water), and the robot obviously continuing to row, but in circles. I scrapped the idea when I realized it would take too long to draw it the way I wanted to, and that the whole concept was a little too emo, even for me. I went with the title “When Robots Dream”, and used a picture of Darci for the cover, even though she’s not a robot (robots are cold, calculating, emotionless…so wait, are we sure she’s not a robot? Programmed to love waterskiing, hockey, and to break men’s hearts? Hmmm…I’ll save that for a later post).

I am also a huge Futurama fan (as it is the greatest show featuring robots EVER – narrowly edging out Small Wonder*), and the RPM Challenge reminded me of the episode in which Bender gets sliced up by the can opener, and ends up going on tour with Beck (the fact that it was probably on twice during the Challenge helped, too). In that episode, Bender writes a song for all of the other broken robots who have been inspired by his success. After he meets them, they are pushed into a factory.

So, I combined my broken robot idea with the factory from Futurama, and came up with Broken Robot Factory. And now you know. Be careful what you do with this knowledge. On to this year’s album.

In response to my post about last year’s album, Erinn suggested I write lyrics next year. I decided she was right, and that I should try lyrics. Over the rest of the year, I messed around with my guitar, coming up with the fundamentals of a few songs, writing some lyrics. I planned on doing something rather different this year – instead of going the straight techno route I went last year, I wanted to go with more live instruments, play guitar, piano, sing, maybe some live drums, then use audio software to piece it all together. As February approached, and the sign-ups for RPM ’08 were announced, I started messing around in GarageBand at work, and came up with a couple of ideas that I really liked. So, I decided I would do two albums this year – one of techno that I could make in spare time at work, and one of live instruments, which I would record at home.

One problem with this idea – the live instrument stuff just wasn’t all that good, and I was absolutely loving the techno I was working on. So, I scrapped the live instrument idea. Contrary to what I thought would happen if I couldn’t pull it off, I really don’t feel that badly about it. I recorded 8 tracks for it, about 20 minutes of music (RPM requirement is 10 tracks or 35 minutes), and 9 for the techno album. I look at it as recording 17 tracks for the challenge, and using the 10 best (and yes, if you do the quick math, you’ll see that one of the “live instrument” songs is on the techno album – I’ll explain later).

The album is called Kolmogorov Complexity. Seems kinda random, huh? Well, that’s because it is. A fellow RPMer posted the idea of clicking the “Random Article” link in Wikipedia to get band/album/song titles. I tried it out, hit that, and really liked it. It is a term used in computer science and is the measure of the computational resources needed to specify the object. The fact that it is used in computer science relates to the fact that my music is computer-based, and it’s meaning relates very well to my album art, which is illustrations my grandfather did in NASA’s Gemini program familiarization manual in which he drew certain parts of the space suits, and labeled them – the goal being to fully describe the part, using as few labels as possible.

Now, the music. A couple of things to note. One of my goals this year was to use as few pre-recorded loops as possible. That said, I’m not a drummer in any way, shape or form. I am pretty awful at even writing drum loops. So, nearly all of the percussion heard is pre-recorded loop. Other than that, though, nearly every loop on this album is written and assembled by me.

Another goal was to write music based on a certain key/scale, instead of just haphazardly slapping notes into loops and hoping it sounds good. I had to refresh myself a bit on chords and scales, but there are some excellent resources on that inter-web thingy.

And lastly, this album is best listened to, in my opinion, on a really good set of headphones.

1. Numinous

The second song I wrote and recorded this year.

GarageBand has a feature called “Musical Typing” which allows you to use the computer keyboard as a musical keyboard in order to input music. Because of this, you can type words, and play music. I decided to use the phrase “Why do I always” which was the beginning of a longer sentence that I don’t recall at the moment. I’m sure it had to do with a girl. Anyway, the way the keyboard is set up, the home row is the white keys, the row above are the black keys. “I” is not actually a key, so the riff became “whydo always” which I trimmed down to “w-h-y d-o a-l w-a-y” (C#-A-G# E-C#(up one octave) C-D(up one octave)-C# C-G#) because it flowed better. That is the main riff in the song. It’s not in any specific key, and as such, it’s fairly dischordant. I like the dischordant sound of the riff, though. It really works for this song, especially as the song progresses and breaks down into static and distortion.

The inspiration for the song came from when I put together Delta Lyrae – what if I just had one riff, and tweaked it with filters and effects enough to make it sound like various different riffs/sounds? This song is just that one riff (until the coda). Even the drums are the same riff (think of those Casio keyboards you see in electronics stores that have percussion mapped to keys – same thing in GarageBand), though I did modify them a bit, adding a hi-hat ride here and there to fill the song a bit more. And everything gets filtered and effected until they sound harsh and disjointed and eventually fall apart, held together only by the tenuous drum beat and the faint piano. Then the piano comes up to full volume, closing out the piece with a brooding coda.

The name comes from wikipedia, another random article title. “Numinous” is a term used by some philosophers to describe that which is wholly other, as in “not of this world” (so, like ghosts, or deities, or Sidney Crosby). It really fit this song, as it is kind of eerie and atmospheric.

2. Making History

Ok, so as noted above, I wanted to try to write music based on a certain key/scale, instead of just haphazardly slapping notes into loops and hoping it sounds good. This was my first real attempt. I wrote the song using GarageBand’s sheet music feature (just like it sounds – you add notes to sheet music) using chords from the D Major scale, and a rather simple chord progression. The plan was to convert it from the defailt grand piano to a synth of some sort, but I found that as I tried to do that, nothing sounded as good as the piano. So I left it, thinking I could add synths around it. The only thing that sounded right was the string ensemble. There are synths deep in the background, but they are faint. So, it seems that in the middle of my attempts to make a techno album, I wrote a short piece of chamber music. Fits nicely after the piano finish to Numinous.

The title is yet another wikipedia random article. I think it fits, as the song has a “classical” sound to it.

3. Delta Lyrae

This is the first song I wrote, and the only song with pre-recorded loops. There are three fairly distinct sections of the song (after the intro), each one based on a certain loop, which I then modified with filters and effects. In the first version of the song, the sections were very distinct. As I listened, though, I decided they needed to overlap, more. If you listen closely, you can hear the synth loop from the final third during the first, and the synth from the first helping to bridge the second and the third. Also, perhaps more surprisingly, the synth loop that starts the song is the same as the one that finishes out the song, even though they sound drastically different.

The name comes from the name of a binary star in the Lyra constellation. Binaries tend to orbit each other, one’s gravity influencing the other, their light mixing and deflecting off of each other, much in the same way the various loops in this song revolve around one another, each altering the other’s sound. (And yes, this was yet another random Wiki article.)

4. Mysterium Fascinans

Sometimes, I start off by playing around on the guitar, coming up with a riff. This year was a little different, as I was trying to write stuff for the guitar, but sometimes what I came up with worked better on the computer than on the guitar. This is one of those cases.

Well, sort of.

The guitar riff this song is based on is actually really fast, and played really high on the fretboard. When I recorded it into GarageBand, I didn’t like it. It was too high-pitched and too fast. It sounded like something you’d hear in a crappy rave, and I wanted to stay away from those kinds of sounds. So, I slowed it down, dropped it an octave, and really liked it. I kept the BPM of this song up (142), and used a quick drumbeat and some other instruments (including my very own “chop synth” – inspired by the sounds near the end of Numinous) to build a fast/slow counterpoint structure, which I think gives this song great flow – you have the slow, swelling synths setting an ominous mood, then the faster distorted synths and filtered drums giving a frenetic feel. I really like the way they play off each other. It’s mysterious, and fascinating.

And hey, that’s kinda like the track title, isn’t it? Yes, if you hadn’t guessed, the title is Latin for “fascinating mystery”, and is part of a longer term (see track 8), related to the term numinous. The “fearful and fascinating mystery” is the term used to describe that feeling you get that there’s something else here; like when you’re in an old, spooky house all by yourself late at night, and you get the sense there is something else there…

5. Breaking History

So, I have this piece of quasi-chamber music on an album of techno. What to do? What to do?

Break it!

This is probably the song most hurt by the time limitations imposed both by the challenge and by my attempting to do this all at work. The idea was to take Making History and just destroy it. I like what came out, but I think I could go further. I guess destroying history further is something to do in the future.

6. Galactagogue

The neatest thing about this song is the percussion line that starts it off (and then carries through the song). Is it some sort of digital drum machine sound? Nope. It’s a fellow RPMer banging on pots and pans and other things in his kitchen. He recorded a bunch of sounds, then put it up online for anyone to use. I took some of the sounds, built a pretty simple drumline, then effected and filtered it to get the distorted percussion sound.

The melody is based on a very simple downward progression of the root note of a C major chord.

The title…well, I’d suggest you go to wikipedia (yes, another wiki-inspired title) and look it up yourself. Then, after your initial shock, look up the word “galaxy”. If this song actually works as a galactagogue, I need to know. Seriously.

7. In The Right Light

If this isn’t the prettiest song I’ve ever written, then that honor would have to go to Empty, at the end of this album.

This is a song I wrote on the Yamaha electric piano for the live-instrument album. Yes, that is me playing an actual piano. When I scrapped that album, this was one of the songs that I really liked, and I thought it would fit on this album. I inserted some synth textures under the piano, but thought it needed something more. Then it hit me: Crickets.

Crickets?

Crickets!

I found a sample of “summer insect sounds” (specifically “Night, Crickets, Frogs”) and inserted it under the piano. I think it really makes the song, turning it from a nice piano piece to a song that recalls warm summer nights, sitting out on the porch, looking up at the stars with someone you love as the rest of the world moves on.

The title comes from the quote “In the right light, at the right time, everything is extraordinary”.

8. Mysterium Tremendum (et Fascinans)

Ah, the fearful and fascinating mystery. This is basically the same song as Mysterium Fascinans, just slowed down from 142 BPM to 80 BPM. Some of the loops were tweaked a bit (the drums start later, for one), but the biggest change is really just the tempo. I like the way slowing it down opens up the song, drawing out the slower loops and emphasizing the choppiness of some of the faster ones.

9. Mo Chroi, Mo Chuisle

Someone reading this may know how to pronounce this song title, but I’m going to guess that 99% of you do not. That’s ok – it’s Irish Gaelic. I needed to hear audio samples to be able to say it.

And, if you followed that link, you’ve seen that the title translates to “My Heart, My Pulse”. Listening to the song, and hearing the “heart-beat” drum line (actually a drum loop filtered so heavily that only the first double beat is audible), the title makes sense, but why the Gaelic?

Well, I’ve long had a fascination with Ireland, Irish beer (Go Guiness!), Irish women, and this song sort of reminds me of the way my heart beats when I’m around an Irish girl. It’s beating normally, then goes a little nuts when she talks to me, then flatlines as she talks about dating some other guy, then comes back rapidly as you realize you misunderstood, goes a little crazy again as you think she might be talking about you, then fades out again when you realize she doesn’t mean you. And then, after all that, when you think it’s dead, it’s still there. It will come back.

Or, maybe this is the song I wrote after Empty, and is supposed to be dischordant and non-melodic to symbolize my anger and frustration.

The reality is closer to a combination of the two.

10. Empty

This was written February 13^th. I’ll give you three guesses as to what was on my mind, and you won’t need the 2^nd or 3^rd ones.

This is one of my favorite songs on this album, and probably the prettiest song I’ve ever written. And it took me 30 minutes to write. I recorded this song on my lunch break. The hardest part was naming it (this is the only song I named with no help from the internet).

It’s a very simple song. It’s piano, texture, and kick drum. The texture is actually a sample of a rain stick (long hollow tube with a bunch of rice inside; when you tilt it vertically, the rice trickles down, sounding like rain).

The piano starts off with a pulsing D minor, then shifts as the root note walks around a bit. I’m sure there’s some technical terms for all of this, but I don’t know any of them. As the song progresses, the rain stick texture shifts and twists until it becomes a swirling vortex of sound. As this happens, the piano melody comes in, mimicking the chords, but in reverse (a counter-point, of sorts, I suppose). A single kick drum keeps the beat (slowly).

There’s a harshness to the texture that mixes with the relentlessness of the piano chords and the lightness of the melody. All of this combined with the minor key of the song makes it very pretty, but also very sad. The slow, single-note melody adds to this, I think, a cold, lonely sound.

It is my Valentine’s Day song. It is my prettiest song. It is my saddest song. And, I think it’s fairly obvious why it’s called “empty”.

*That’s right, Trekkies, I put Small Wonder ahead of any of the Star Trek series.

Small fucking Wonder.

Suck it.

It's been 12 hours, and I'm still pissed.

2007-11-04T09:02:00.000-05:00

Ok, look, I understand the desire to be at every single UNH game possible. I understand the desire to yell at the team, or at fans who won't stand up late in a close game. However, there is a limit. If you are 4+ hours away, and rushing back would only get you home in time for the last 15 minutes of the game, just go straight home. Forget about going to the game. Especially if you are going to come to the game and then complain about everything.

Yes, I am citing a specific reference. Last night. Northeastern @ UNH. Two of our fellow fans (though not hosers - these two sit in the next section over, in the corner) miss the first period. Then the second period. Then the start of the third. They finally show up after missing 3/4 of the game. And y'know, that's ok. Tickets are already paid for, might as well use them, even though you're probably going to have to stand in the concourse and watch. For whatver reason, these two were actually able to get their seats in the front row. I don't know if this was because their friends save those seats for them, or if the fact that they always sit there led other people to believe that no one else was allowed to sit there, but either way, the seats were open, and they took them without even recognizing how fortunate they were. They acted as if they were entitled to sit there, as if they had paid for those seats. I know the hosers sometimes act like this, but then, we also get to the rink 2-3 hours before the doors open to rush down for our seats.

And then comes the complaining. UNH wasn't playing very well. These two start shouting how they didn't drive all the way from New York to see UNH play like crap. Was UNH playing great? No. Were they playing terribly? No. They were playing ok, NU was playing better, and was doing a lot of things to disrupt UNH. Games like this happen. It's not the end of the world. Coach will make them skate harder in practice, and hopefully teach them how to counteract some of the things NU did against them. To these two, though, it was a personal slight that UNH was playing poorly.

With about 4 minutes left, the "townies" started to head to the exits, and these two start yelling at them for leaving early, and about how they drove so far to be there, etc. Yeah, none of the townies care what you two did, and you are probably a big reason they don't like us (since you two tend to yell at them every single game, while sounding like idiots).

And the topper. The comment that made me want to tell them to shut the hell up and go home. One of them asks us to put on the white board "we didn't drive [however far] to have our hearts broken". And then she went on about not spending hundreds of dollars to have their hearts broken.

What?? IT'S FUCKING NOVEMBER 3rd!! UNH lost 2-1. TWO to ONE. If a 2-1 loss in November breaks your heart, go the fuck home, save your money, and spend your winters watching crappy TV shows. Don't go to hockey games where your team might actually lose. Because guess what, it's going to happen, regardless over whether you're there or not. And that whole "We paid good money for these seats, play down here!" crap you yell? Yeah, that's just fucking ridiculous. Ok, it was kinda funny the first time you shouted it, but it's gotten old. People on the other end paid good money. The people at center ice paid good money. What they fuck makes YOU so special that you being there means they should play in front of you? Yeah, I get the point of the "cheer" - you want them to play in the offensive zone. However, when you shout that, you sound like a self-important nitwit...which I guess is pretty close to the truth.

Ugh.

Blogger's Block

2007-08-14T22:00:00.000-04:00

Ok, so I haven't posted for a while, and for that, I apologize. I simply haven't had much to write about. Not too many exciting happenings in my life at the moment, and those that were noteworthy were really only of interest to people present at the time. Hoserfest was awesome, and a big thanks to Darci and her family for hosting us all.

So...what to write about? What to write...well, I could check my e-mail. Maybe there's something interesting in there.

Let's see, 2,178 messages...and nothing from my readers. Reader. Singular. Beyond that, nothing even worth talking about.

Well, there was this one, from mpo_sekretariat:

qwty pajchvvtba usyn jhkiho jwxuvb pajoya

I am...unsure what that means. However, if you note the usage of the non-specific, partial, non-selective deictic "usyn", followed by the third-person singular verb in the genitive case, with no proclitic, "jhkiho", as well as the overall subjunctive mood, you'll realize that I have no idea what I'm talking about and am just throwing out grammatical terms. And that I just wanted to use the term "proclitic".

I thought about using this space to outlay some of my feelings on Barry Bonds, as he has recently broken Hank Aaron's record, but after the google search, "Barry Bonds" +blog yielded 11,700,000 results, I figured I'd probably be echoing a few million other blogger's comments, so I think I'll leave that one alone.

I got a Wii recently. It's fun. Lot's of blue LEDs. Blue LEDs are neat. I got nothing.

Back to sports, the Red Sox lead is down to 5 games (at the time of writing), and I've been hearing about Red Sox fans "panicking"...um, why? Yeah, I understand how much it would suck to lose this division to a team that at one point was battling Tampa Bay for 4th place, but what is the sense in panicking? What are we going to change by flipping out and symbolically "leaping off the Tobin Bridge"? Especially given the fact that the Sox haven't lost anything yet...sometimes I think this region is just a little too crazy about baseball.

And speaking of crazy, check out Stranger Than Fiction (2006). Great, subtle performance by Will Farrell. Don't expect anything like his other comedy roles. Best Will Farrell movie I've seen since...um...

Right, so when I was cleaning my apartment recently, I found a piece of folded up notebook paper. Upon unfolding, I found a woman's handwriting. Now I'm really intrgued. Reading down the page, my heart races, my breath quickens, and my legs go a little weak. Do you know what I'm holding in my hand? Quotes that never made the quote book page...I found the lost quotes!

1.13.07 UNH vs Dartmouth
Gibber: That tickles me in my...tickle spots.

Darci: Nothing like sharing a fruit roll-up in a car.
Gibber: Doesn't get more romantic than that.

Gibber: I need to lose about 400lbs.
Gib's Mom: Cut your head off.

Gibber: It was a very eventful ride, topped off by my mom.

Gibber: He turns Friday on the 30.

Check back in a week for a new post. There probably won't be one, but it doesn't hurt to check, right?

I couldn't think up a clever title...

2007-06-13T23:59:00.000-04:00

...so there isn't one. Here's some things that I've been thinking about lately:

Monday morning (see last post) went something like this: I get to work early, to be sure to be there when my coworker saw her cube. I hear her come in, put her stuff down in her cube and stand there, looking at everything. The next sound I hear is paper tearing and being tossed into the garbage can. She was not amused. She was less amused when she turned her computer on, and saw the desktop backgrounds. And, she was even less amused by the screen saver. I was thoroughly amused as she kept finding Yankees things around her cube.

She swears that she'll get me back. Joke's on her, though (again) - I won't be able to take a vacation until September. That's what she gets for being a Yankees fan.

I don't understand why the NHL has such a problem marketing the league. It's so simple and obvious it is stunning. You have these players, a ton of whom have magnificent stories to be shared with the public. And, you have a huge hockey fan in Kiefer Sutherland with star power and one of the coolest voices on TV. You could have him read a story about how Andrew Alberts rode the T down Comm Ave one day to pick up some burgers at McDonald's, and it would sound like the opening narration to some ultra-dramatic movie. Take a bunch of these guys, write down their stories, have Kiefer read them during NHL commercials. People will be salivating to watch the NHL.

Of course, knowing the NHL, they'd do this, but only air them once a week. On Versus.

I've been noticing a disturbing trend lately. More and more, I've been seeing or been told about kids who look like me. I drove past a kid, probably in high school, husky, with a scruffy beard and pony tail. Yeah, parents? A word of advice - DON'T LET YOUR KIDS LOOK LIKE ME. Do whatever you have to. Buy a treadmill and pay them to use it. Force them to eat healthy in exchange for growing their hair out. Save your kids.

Who the hell came up with the Bagel Bites tagline, "When pizza's on a bagel, you can eat pizza anytime"? What the hell does that even mean? Have you ever been about to have leftover pizza for breakfast, and stopped, saying "geez, it's morning. I really shouldn't be having pizza. If only it was on a bagel!"? When can't you have pizza? And does this apply to religious people who fast for various reasons?

"Hey, you can't eat that pizza! It's the middle of Ramadan!"
"But it's on a bagel."
"Oh, you can have that ANYtime!"

Frankly, I think that would have been a better commercial than a bunch of punk kids running into the house and looking for a snack.

Pulling out of the grocery store parking lot, I called one of the store employees a punk as he took his time walking the longest route possible in front of my car and gave me a defiant look, but I immediately felt bad. I meant to call him a douchebag.

Apparently Tim Meadows's dad works at this grocery store. Either that, or Tim is prepping for an upcoming role as a grey-haired, mildly-depressed grocery store manager. I don't think either case bodes very well for Tim.

Something I've never understood - the idea that if you're obsessed with something, you are likely to hurt it. Maybe it's just me, but I've never been in love with someone so much that I wanted them dead. Just kinda seems...counterintuitive.

"Oh man, I love that car, but I can't afford it. I'm going to blow it up so that no one else can drive it."

The past three weeks have been busy for me, as I've undertaken the mamoth task of cleaning my apartment. Not just picking up around the apartment - no, we're talking, full-on, root through every box, every drawer, every pile of papers, fill up multiple garbage bags, reorganize entire rooms, cleaning. It's rather exhausting, and has taken a bit longer than expected. Some of it has been rather interesting, though.

I found my baby book (something I would strongly recommend all future parents do - record everything you can about your child, and keep it safe) and some papers from my early school years, and found some things out about myself:
- Apparently when I was young, I had a fantastic attention span, and would remain focused on one thing for hours at a time (what the hell happened to that?)
- I learned how to read before I started nursery school. Mom first noticed when I went through the crayon box and read all the names, and then was able to read other things. She credits Sesame Street. Because of this, I've come to the conclusion that all K-8 classes should be taught by muppets. I have never known anyone who was a devoted Sesame Street watcher who failed to learn something from that show. Hell, I'd have paid much more attention to Algebra in 8th grade had lightning flashed and the teacher laughed like The Count everytime he finished showing us a concept. Instead, he looked like a 40-year-old nerd. Didn't really inspire me to learn, y'know?
  
  And muppets don't run into the same problems as human teachers do. Kids will tune out a mid-30's blonde woman standing infront of the class, yammering on about the rhyming structure of a Robert Frost poem. Change that teacher to a 6-foot-tall talking shag carpet with ping-pong balls for eyes and no throat, and every single eye will be staring straight at it, taking everything in.
  
  And more and more lately, we've been hearing about sex scandals in schools, be it male teacher/female student, female teacher/male student, male teacher/male student, or even female teacher/female student. When was the last time you heard about a sex scandal involving a muppet? And I'll tell you, as students approach puberty, they start thinking about some of their teachers that way, and some of the TV stars they enjoyed as younger children. I've heard guys lust after Punky Brewster, and girls drool over Ricky Schroeder. However, you wil NEVER hear anyone say, "Man, that Big Bird was HOT!"
  
  (And yes, Darci, you'd still have a job - you took a puppeteering course at UNH, right?)
- I wrote a "book" in the 2nd grade about hockey (if you're surprised, you don't know me well enough). I talked about playing anywhere the coach put me, and being put in net in the 2nd half of the season, where I helped my team make the playoffs. My goals in life at that time? Play goal for the US Olympic hockey team, then go play for the Boston Bruins. Yes, I wanted to be Jim Craig, even though I was too young to even know who he was. My favorite thing about the book? I dedicated it to Grant Fuhr - proving that I simply love hockey, as I dedicated my book about the sport to the man who helped destroy my dreams of ever seeing my favorite team hoist the holy grail that is the Stanley Cup.
- In Kindergarten, I was apparently very good at approaching people and making friends, a skill that I unfortunately lost somewhere between then and the rest of my life. I was good at playing with others, but I also had a tendency to do things by myself. I would take a workbook and go do the exercises by myself, or just play by myself. Sadly, this is the skill I would nurture.
- A few years later, I recognized this problem though, as I made two New Year's resolutions: the first, to draw more, because drawing is fun; the second, to make more friends because playing alone is no fun. Yeah, nailed that first one pretty solidly (just look at any of my notebooks from middle school on - all doodles, few notes). So, I'm shooting 50%. Hell, in Wayne Gretzky's best year, he only shot 27%. Suck it, "Great One"
- In the third grade, I did a report on the extinction of the dinosaurs. The teacher loved my drawings, and praised my knowledge. Looking back through it, though, I have to think it's because she didn't know much about dinosaurs herself. I mean, my conclusions were ill-formed at best, and at times downright wrong. And the comet I drew? Holy crap. Looks like a deformed christmas cookie. I don't even know why I submitted it to the New England Scientific Journal. It needed at least one more draft.
- Basically, my childhood revolved around reading, music, TV, and hockey. Man, have I changed! Oh wait, no, I haven't.
- Oh, and I found a bunch of pictures of me from the late 80's/early 90's. I don't know if anyone picked up on this, but, um, I'm a pretty big dork. I don't think anyone but me thought what I was wearing looked cool at all. But hey, at least I tried to look cool...and holy crap did that ever fail miserably! At least I learned something from those pictures - in 15-20 years, I'll look back at pictures of me now, and I may still look like a dork, but at least I'll be ready for it!
Current figures list the world population at 6.6 billion people, with about 4.7 billion adults. It's reasonable to assume that about half of the population is female (at birth it's a little less, by adulthood, it is about half). This means there are roughly 2.35 billion women who would not go out with me. The odds that anything I post here is about any specific woman are 1 in 2,350,000,000, or .0000000004255%. It's actually more likely that someday a scientist will clone a velociraptor that will break out of captivity, eating you and your entire family, and then star in an Andrew Lloyd Weber musical about the plight of migrant farm workers in Bolivia. To assume that anything I post here is about any single woman out of that 2.35 billion is rather ridiculous. *cough*pinheadnation*cough*

At times, my friends and I like to rent crappy sci-fi/action/horror movies and rip them apart, MST3k-style. Sometimes it's tough to find the right movie, though. You pick one up, and it looks right, but then you pop it in, and you realize there's nothing you can do. I have found a sure-fire way to determine whether a movie is good for this treatment. Examine the front cover of the case. Do you see the words, "Christopher Lambert"? If so, then you have a winner.

If I had a dollar for every time I made some shocking revelation like the fact that Christopher Lambert is married to Diane Lane (and has been since at least the early 90's)...I'd have a dollar.

Some view the internet as a place to gather and share information. They are wrong. The internet is a place to troll message boards and gather/share pornography. Al Gore claims he invented the internet. I'm not sure if that's true. I mean, depravity and inflammatory comments - does that sound like a politician to you?

In closing, sad news from the entertainment world: Mr. Wizard passed away Tuesday morning, at age 89. In lieu of flowers, the family requests that you use a vacuum to make a ping-pong ball hover in mid-air.

Why I may not live to see lunch on Monday:

2007-05-13T22:14:00.000-04:00

Yes, my dear reader(s), I am afraid for my life. Did I piss off some ultra-violent sociopath who has tracked me down and has been sending me death threats all weekend? Maybe, but that's not what this is about.

No, this is about a friend at work, Amy, who is likely to tear my larynx out with a staple remover when she comes into work Monday morning.

You see, Amy is a huge Red Sox fan. She goes to games, has a bunch of those jersey t-shirts, various superstitions regarding the wearing of said shirts and the outcomes of games, and, most importantly in terms of this post, a bunch of Red Sox stuff in her cube (including pictures, the NESN BobbleDesk, and desktop backgrounds).

To help you picture it, here's a picture (computer was off, though, so you'll have to take my word on the desktpo backgrounds):

And Monday morning, she left for Toronto with her boyfriend to go watch the Red Sox, and visit the Hockey Hall of Fame (mmmmmm HHOF...*drooooool* ...but I digress). She was gone all week. Her cube, full of Red Sox stuff, was just sitting there, empty, all week long.

I just couldn't resist.

It had to be done.

I converted her "Red Sox cube" to a "Yankees cube"!

I started downloading some images, and making some adjustments, and then I went to work on her cube. One of the bigger challenges was the BobbleDesk. I had to figure out the Yankees equivalent to Remy and Orsillo, which should have been the TV guys, but the headshots on the Yankees team page weren't in color for the TV guys, but they were for the radio crew of Suzyn Waldman and Jon Sterling. And, I figured they were a better choice, because while I love listening to Don and Jerry, Suzyn and Sterling make me want to gouge my eardrums out with a claw hammer. Here's how it came out:

Another problem was the Red Sox Trivia page-a-day calendar she has. It's May, so finding a 2007 calendar is a little difficult. I had hoped that I'd be able to find one cheap, but wasn't able to. So, I went into Adobe Illustrator, and created a page for a page-a-day calendar. It didn't come out quite the way I was hoping, but time was short. I'm pretty happy with how it came out, though:

Everything else was pretty easy. I covered her pictures of Nomar with a picture of ARod in some promo picture; her 2004 World Series champs mini poster was covered with a picture of a 1999 World Series champs plaque that you can buy; various Sox logos around the cube were covered with the Yankees logos; the Sox schedule replaced by a Yankees schedule. Her desktop backgrounds were replace with a picture of Jason Giambi and the Yankees logo. Her "picture frame" widget now cycles through Yankees pictures. Even her screen saver is now a slideshow of Yankees pictures.

Here's how her cube will look when she walks in Monday morning:

Yeah, she's gonna kill me.

It was worth it.

What now, chase the girl?

2007-05-11T20:01:00.000-04:00

Ok, so if you've read any of my away messages lately, you've probably noticed that I'm kinda down, and that it's about a girl. Without going into too much detail, I met this girl some time ago, and we became friends. When I first met her, I thought she was pretty, but didn't think much else about her. The more I hung out with her, the more I realized that she is beautiful, especially her eyes - she has gorgeous eyes. I also discovered that she is intelligent, fun to hang out with, that we had a number of common interests, and (maybe most importantly) I really really liked the way I felt around her. She makes me feel happy. I find that no matter how crappy my day was, if I talk to her, I smile. A genuine, "I'm in a good mood" smile.

So, naturally, I start to think about being more than friends with this girl. This is where we run into problems. There has never been any indication that she'd want to go out with me, and when I think about the pairing we would be, I can't blame her. I'm not trying to be depressing here, but let's face it, I'm not exactly attractive. Honestly, and again, I say this without meaning to sound down, she can do much better than me.

There's also just the personalities involved. I think about dating this girl, and I can't imagine how going out on a date with her would be any different than just hanging out with her like I normally do. Now, some would say that's a good thing, but if that's all it's going to be, then what's the point of dating? Just stay friends. And then there's that - we are friends. I like being friends with her. Sure, you could look at dating her as a heightening of that friendship, but what then? Am I going to date this girl forever? Am I going to marry her? What I'm getting at here is that eventually, the relationship is going to end. It could end well, and we'd stay friends, or it could end messy, and we'd hate each other. I really don't want that.

And to that end, over the time I've known this girl, I've learned quite a few things about her, and while I think she is great as a friend, I'm not sure that she and I would work together as boyfriend and girlfriend.

So, all of this has weighed down on me the past few weeks (and maybe even longer), as I've tried to figure out what I'm feeling and what it means, and have tried to decide what to say to her, or if I should even say anything at all. At one point, I had decided to lay it all out, tell her everything, see what she thought of it all (possible awkwardness be damned), but I came to the conclusion that I already knew what her overall answer would be. So, I didn't say anything.

I think it was the right choice, but it was a hollow victory. I basically gave up on this girl who I couldn't stop thinking about. Now, all I could think about was how I'd never have her, which pretty much blows. It sucks to think she'll never go out with you. It just hurts to know it.

At some point over the past week, though, the thought occurred to me that my obsessing over her could stress our friendship. Would risking the friendship be worth all these feelings I was having? HELL NO! So, I began to understand that being "just friends" with this girl (as much as I hate that every potential relationship I have ends up like that, as my readers already know) is a very good thing, and much preferable to the alternative.

And, I figure it doesn't really change much of anything. I still have feelings for her that run deeper than friendship, but she doesn't share those feelings. So be it - I'm not going to dwell on it anymore.

So now, all I want is to be friends with her. And in that, I've already succeeded.

I am happy.

(I've disabled comments on this post - if you'd like to comment, e-mail or IM me.)

The girl in the commercial is very cute, though.

2007-05-03T23:09:00.000-04:00

Alright, There's a Radio Shack commercial that's been bugging me. It starts of with this young couple having an argument, as the girl is leaving on a trip of some sort. The apartment is FULL of records, which seems to be the basis of the argument. She leaves and he starts to rip the songs to his computer, and she returns to the music playing from an mp3 player, and a clean apartment.

Now, the girl has almost no luggage, which means she's probably only going away for a few days at most. And, as far as I know, ripping audio from a record is a 1-to-1 process - meaning that the record has to spin at normal play speed while you record it to the computer (unlike ripping from a CD, which can spin many times faster than it plays). So, while ripping a 3 minute song from a CD may only take 10 seconds, ripping it from a record will take 3 minutes. The guy's got hundreds of albums in that apartment. I'll be conservative and say he's got 300 albums, each with 10 songs, and each song is 3 minutes long. That's 3000 songs. Ripping all of those songs would take a minimum of 9000 minutes. That's 150 hours. 6 days, 6 hours. And that's not taking into account changing albums, making adjustments in the setup, packing and storing all of those albums, the dude sleeping or going to work.

If he slept for just 4 hours a night, that bumps the time up to 7.5 hours.

And then he copies it all to the mp3 player. Even being generous and assuming 10 seconds per song to copy it from the computer to the device, that's another 500 minutes, or 8+ hours. Granted, he doesn't have to be around for that to work, but it's more time the entire process takes.So, that's almost 8 days it would take to rip all of those songs, and copy them to the device (and this is with my estimate of 300 albums with 10 3-minute songs on each, which I think is low).

There is no way he could have done everything shown in the commercial, unless he simply got rid of a bunch of the albums without doing anything with them, or unless the girl went away for much longer than anything in the ad would lead you to believe.

(To put it another way - think of how long it would take to listen to every song on every one of those albums. With the amount of music he has, it would take weeks.)

Something somewhat random I was thinking about while contemplating doing something potentially risky

2007-04-22T21:20:00.000-04:00

So, I was sitting around today, watching Shanghai Knights, and I realized, not for the first time, that I used to really not like Owen Wilson, but I have really grown to like his acting style. He's kinda weird, but I like it. I'm not sure why.

I also realized that I really want to be rich enough to throw a part where people are introduced. And I'm not talking like at weddings, where someone introduces certain guests. No, I want a prim and proper British guy standing at the doorway announcing the name of each guest as they enter the room. I don't know why, I just don't think that happens enough anymore, and I'd really like to see it. Maybe I'll stand at the door of Nick and Erinn's apartment this Saturday and announce everyone as they show up.

Of course, then I started thinking about the party. It's gotta kinda suck to be the first person to show up. "Lord and Lady Neverlate," the British guy announces to the room full of...waitstaff. Yay, that's exciting. No crowd there to gasp that you actually showed your face here after that BBQ at Jack's, where you got so drunk that you pushed the grill into the pool, and dunked your ass in the punch bowl; or to thrill ever so slightly that you saw fit t grace the precedings with your presence; or to stare half-politely at you and wonder who the hell you are and why you're there. Instead, you just get the cold indifference of a bunch of people who resent the fact that they have to walk around waiting on you hand and foot. Well, maybe not "foot". Unless it was a really good party.

So that gets me wondering, is there a group of people who are supposed to get there first? Are certain people designated the filler, the iceberg lettuce of the garden salad that is your party? They get there with the waitstaff, maybe help set up, then just mill about chattering until the first of the important guests show up? I suppose if you were upper-crust enough, you'd attend/throw enough of these parties that you could set up some sort of rotation, which I guess would work. Or maybe when you set up the party, you rent out some extra guests to be the filler.

Anyway, there you go, 5 of the 6 thoughts I had today.

Until next time, stay hoserrific, and avoid New Jersey at all costs.

I'm not looking for the best quotes, I'm looking for the right ones: The 2006-07 Quote Book

2007-04-21T02:29:00.000-04:00

Yeah, so I was watching Miracle while finishing this up, so I figured I'd use a Brooksism as the title of the 5th annual quote book.

Another year comes to a close, and it's time to take a look back at all of the funny, stupid, ridiculous, and downright offensive things we said over the past season of UNH hockey. It's also a chance to reflect on the season that was. The Hosers travelled more than we ever have before, following the team not just all over New England, but all the way down to Florida. We saw some tough losses early, some dominating victories in some tough buildings, and a team few thought would even compete for the top spot in Hockey East romp through the regular season.

The Hosers became a little more organized, really becoming the travelling cheering section, and we discovered that we have fans! From players' parents, to season ticket holders, to little kids, even refs!

Alright, without further rambling from me, here it is, the 2006-2007 Hoser Quote Book:

8.28.06 Bonfire @ Nick & Erinn's
"While they were smoking up, I was playing with the turtles." -Ankur

10.7.06 St Francis Xavier @ UNH (exhibition)
Darci: What'd you do, spoodge?
Matt: I...got it all over the place.

Erinn: Where'd that come from?
Matt: The girl, or the clap?
Erinn: The clap.

Jeff: Yeah, it's like DJ Jazzy Scott.
Scott: And the Fresh Jeff!
Jeff: Shouldn't that be the other way around?

10.14.06 USNDT @ UNH
Nick: Couldn't you hold it for more than 5 seconds?
Matt: No. I'm a guy!

Nick: Someone stick something in her mouth!

Nick: Darci can't have an orgy right now, she has a kid in her mouth.

Rob: By the time Darci finishes the sign, the period will be over.
Scott: She'll have another one next month.
Rob: I hope so. I don't want to pay child support.

Rob: It's a tsunami!
Matt: Oh no - we killed Ankur!

10.27.06 BC Women @ UNH
Darci: I love it. I asked him what his major is, and he told me, "Geography".
Matt: So...he can take pictures of rocks?
Darci: No, that would be Geology.
Matt: Oh. So, he can take pictures of...
Darci: Maps.
Matt: Right. Maps.

"Oh look, sluts!" -Matt

"Ooh, cops. I want to be arrested!" -Gibber

10.28.06 Yale @ UNH
"Ha-ha, I can walk in it -- AHH! It's deep!" -Darci

"Darci, you're like the male version of me." -Nick

"I have skidmarks on my iPod." -Darci

"This would be so much better if I wasn't wearing pants!" -Darci

11.18.06 UML @ UNH
"I like the small fat ones, she likes the long, skinny ones." -Nick

11.22.06 UNH @ BC
Matt: I can't hold this position for very long.
Darci: I know, that's why I'm not pushing down very hard.

"That's the douchebag haircut of the year." -Mike

All: Whack it! ...And he's spent.
Andy: He should have gone to UMass.
Adam: Nah, he's too fast to be a Minuteman.
Matt: The priests like that he's fast - that's why he's at BC.

12.3.06 UVM @ UNH
"Keith, do 'sex'. I'll just fuck it up." -Rob

"I think I'd be more comfortable sitting without a bottle in my ass." -Rob

12.8.06 SLU @ UNH
"I'll go out tomorrow and get a pair of big ones." -Matt

Matt: Suck this way?
Darci: If you sucked "that way", wouldn't you be blowing?

12.26.06 Driving to Florida
Erinn: That van with the "Carrying Children" sign? I thought it said "Crying Children".
Matt: That's ok. I thought that "Iwo Jima Memorial" sign said, "Two Jims Memorial".

"Do you think they light that cross on fire at night so people can see it?" -Matt

"The Dick Clark Cafe - where the meat is all past its prime, but still *looks* good." -Matt

"Every time you play this song, a pedophile gets a ticket to Thailand." -Matt

Matt: Nick's groping me!
Nick: I thought Matt was Erinn.
Erinn: I'm confused!
Matt: I think Nick is, too!

"I am telling Ciocco that his state sucks!" -Darci

Matt: Sleeping outside tonight wouldn't be a good idea.
Nick: Why not?
Matt: We're driving.

12.27.06 Still Driving
"Pubix - where shopping is a pleasure!"

12.28.06 Florida
Matt: Great. I hate boarding and then just sitting there. I mean, great, you get there early, and then just sit there waiting for everyone else to get on.
Nick: Kinda like hockey games.
Matt: That's different. That's completely different, and you know it!

Nick: Darci's is bigger.
Gib: But mine's better.
Darci: And Gib paid more for his.

12.29.06 UNH vs Cornell in Florida
Jay: I'm hung like a horse! ...a sea horse.
Darci: I can see if my mom can fix that for you.

"We're trying to kill the bitch."-Rob

12.30.06 UNH vs WMU in Florida
"The Hosers fucking rule!" -Rob

"No! Going is boring!" -Jeremy (age 5)

"Congratulations on getting off." -Darci (to Erinn)

jmh: You guys home yet?
Matt: You guys win yet?
jmh: I hate you.

12.31.06 Driving Home from Florida
"Oh my God, you're evil!" -Erinn

1.5.07 UNH @ UVM
UVM Fan: Hey Regan, bang your stick!
Matt: Hey Regan, bang his girlfriend!

Matt: I don't speak cow.

UVM fan: Lots of pressure Regan! Can you handle it?
(Regan makes a nice save)
UVM fan: Touche Regan, touche.

1.13.07 UNH vs Dartmouth
Matt: You're never satisfied are you?
Darci: No. I'm a girl.

1.19.07 UMass @ UNH
Nick: Fucking bullshit!
Matt: What the fuck?
Darci: Fuck! ...well, everyone else was saying it, I felt like I should too.

1.20.07 UNH women @ Dartmouth
Matt: There's nothing offensive about [BU's version of 'Tequila'].
Darci: "Let's get fucked up"?
Matt: ...Damn.

1.20.07 UNH Men @ UMass-Amherst
Matt: We could spell out "ganbang", but what would it mean?
Darci: Find a hole?

"I threw it in your mouth when you weren't looking." -Matt

2.3.07 BC Women @ UNH
"Even a blind nut gets a squirrel." -Darci

"I don't think getting first graders high is a good idea." -Darci

2.9.07 MC @ UNH
Matt: You know who does a great Ronald Reagan impersonation?
Rob: Who?
Matt: Shawn Walsh

"We don't all sleep with the opposing goalie, Rob." -Jeff

"Yeah, use plastic. It's way more fun." -Darci

Darci: I have bras that make them look bigger.
Matt: Oh, I know.

2.17.07 UNH @ BU
"I need her on the floor with me." -Shrader

"I'm a whore." -Gibber

4.4.07 St Louis
"I went into this room, and there was this chair with wheels, and it had wheels on it, and you could wheel it around" -Jay

Shrader: Why do they all have whistles?
Matt: Maybe they're rape whistles.
Shrader: I'd like to hear those whistles!

4.5.07 St Louis
Shrader: It's the strangest thing...
Gibber: Dude, those are my pants!
Shrader: Ohhh, that's what it is...

4.6.07 St Louis
Gibber: If it's after midnight, we have to pay again.
Darci: No, no, twelve!

4.7.07 St Louis
"I think he's humping my leg!" -Greg

Thank you to everyone for a great season. Rob was right, The Hosers really do fucking rule!

Frozen Four 2007: Westward Hosers! Epilogue

2007-04-20T23:59:00.000-04:00

So, that's it. The season is over. UNH's season had been over for two weeks prior to the final weekend. Being home from the Frozen Four, looking at my dark, cold, messy apartment, it's hard not to feel depressed. I've seen my share of winning. I've won championships in house league soccer and hockey as a kid; my high school soccer team was dominant (won the first 9 Class S state titles, 12 of the first 13, winning in my sophomore, junior, and senior years), the Pats have won 3 Super Bowls, and I've seen the Red Sox win the World Series.

However, somehow, none of this matters when your #1 team fails to win.

And it hurts even more when you go to the Frozen Four, but your team (who was playing well enough most of the year to be there) isn't. Yeah, the games are exciting, and the atmosphere is intense, and it's great seeing all the fans - not just of the teams invovled, but the fans like you, who are there just for love of the game - but there's something missing. Your team.

This year I watched Michigan State give their fans a stick salute - a tradition at UNH, as well - after both games they played, and I couldn't help thinking how that could be UNH, and how great that would be. Darci tells me it will be, someday. Part of me believes her, or at least wants to. However, there is a larger part of me, the pessimistic side I have tried to contain and surpress for years now, that feels like it will never be us. It's just not meant to be. I don't know what better way to put it than that I start to feel like a loser.

And then you get home. If you're like me, you come home to a cold, messy apartment. And you're all alone. Yeah, you have the non-hoser friends that you'll have a lot more time for, but you also realize that you probably won't see the hosers for months. Your apartment's a mess, you have no clean clothes, and your team didn't win. Loser.

Things would be different had your team won. Yeah, you're still alone, and cold, but at least you have something to celebrate.

I don't want to end this on a down note, though. The Frozen Four is a great event, and the entire weekend is just a lot of fun, even if you don't drink much. It is one of the few sporting events where nearly the entire sport's fanbase is represented, and you get to meet and hang out with people from all over the college hockey landscape, which means you get to see friends you don't see much. It is a massive, four-day social event, and a great way to send off yet another college hockey season.

What makes it somewhat depressing is that it is the end of the season. We get so excited to go, we look forward to it so much, and at the same time, we want to put it off as long as possible, becasue that final buzzer (or goal horn, if the final goes to OT) is the final buzzer on the entire season. The winning team celebrates, the stadium clears out, and we're done.

Such is the life of a sports fan, I suppose. It was a fun season, and I'm looking forward to another one next year.

Just 181 more days...

Frozen Four 2007: Westward Hosers! Part 5 - We'll Get Home Eventually

2007-04-20T23:33:00.000-04:00

I'm sure some people will think I'm joking around a bit, but I am being very serious here. I am very upset that the seating arrangements at dinner Saturday night hosed me out of the chance to play cleavage pong! It's the closest I get to playing with Darci's cleavage, and I missed it! I figured there'd be another chance later in the evening, but no, and here it is Sunday morning, we're getting ready to go home, and no cleavage pong for me.

Mike and Gib take off early, as their flights are the first ones out. The rest of us get to linger a bit, watching some TV and just chatting. Shrader's flight is at 1:30, Darci, Jay, and my flight is about an hour later. We get to stay right until checkout, if we like. This is much nicer than last year - 6am flights suck more than missing out on cleavage pong (yes, I really am upset about this).

We pack up our stuff and head to the Metro. The train system seems fairly new, and I think they based it on Boston's T. It has many of the T's trademark characteristics: a seemingly random schedule, poorly timed trains (ok, this was more our fault than the Metro's, but still), absurdely long travel time for short distances, and random stoppages/delays. One of the delays was due to construction. Ok, fine, they're doing work on the tracks...but on a Sunday? Ok, maybe they're working on Sunday because there's less commuters using the train? That makes sense. However...

It is Easter Sunday. What construction crew works on Easter Sunday? Westerners are weird. I can't wait to get back home.

We get to the airport, say goodbye to Shrader, check our luggage, and head to the gate. We have some time before our flight leaves, so we find some breakfast. We get some food, Jason gets a beer and a shot, and then, in typical St Louis fashion, our waitress disappears on us. We pay and head to our gate.

For the fourth flight in a row (last leg of the return flight last year, both legs of flight out this year), I'm on a tiny plane - just 4 seats per row. The good news is I'm sitting next to Jay, so I don't have to worry about crowding some stranger. Just Jay.

We touch down in Chicago, deplane, walk (and walk, and walk) across the airport to our connecting flight's gate, and wait. And wait. And wait. And move to a different gate. And wait. And wait. 3+ hour layovers kinda blow, but at least I'm with friends.

We have Easter Dinner together, which consists of McDonald's food, and some pretty good cheesecake for dessert. Darci wins Phase 10, then continues her cribbage dominance over me (though she does remind me that I have beat her once - I had forgotten about the 4th game we played in Milwaukee; I had to get her buzzed to do it, but I beat her...by one point). She beats me twice, running her all-time record against me to 7-1.

Our flight boards, and I don't have as good luck with the seats, ending up 4 rows behind Jay and Darci. The plane is a 737, though, so it is nice and big, and underbooked. So Darci and I both end up with empty seats next to us. We could have moved around and all sat together, but it's a relatively short flight, and having the extra space is nice for both of us. The flight is bumpy, but once again uneventful. We land and head down to the baggage carousel.

Our bags come down, we say our goodbyes, and make our way home.

And as I open the door to my apartment, drop my luggage on the kitchen floor, and stare at my cluttered kitchen table, the finality hits me.

The season is over.

Frozen Four 2007: Westward Hosers! Part 4 - Chicks Dig Scars, and the Shortest Title Game Ever

2007-04-17T23:20:00.000-04:00

This weekend cold have been subtitled "Adventures in Snoring". Yeah, we've all been snoring at times (even Darci, although it was so quiet I only heard hers when I was already awake, and I have to admit, I'd never thought a snore could be cute...but dammit, it was), but in the wee hours of the morning, Gib astounded me by not just snoring, but snoring like Darth Vader. Yeah, I was annoyed at being woken up, but at the same time impressed. That was some creative snoring.

I'm up way too early once again, well before anyone else. I read for a little bit, and then decide to go explore the hotel and try to find some breakfast in one of the vending machines (I'm playing hockey today, so a small, early breakfast is all I will allow myself). I think ahead enough to bring my wallet, which has my money and a room key, but I don't think ahead enough to put on pants or shoes. So, I'm walking through our classy hotel at 8 on a Saturday morning in just my t-shirt, shorts, and socks. I really only plan on walking down to the vending machines on our floor and grabbing something there, but the machine won't give me my selection. So, I head to the other floors, taking my time walking around the floors. I find the guest laundry room, which is nice, as nearly all of my clothes reek of smoke, and I have only one pair of pants left - the running pants I'd planned on wearing to and from the posters' game. I'm not sure if they'll do for the entire weekend. I also have these shorts, I suppose, but as we have been experiencing record lows for St Louis, I don't think they'll cut it.

I eventually find some food, and after a strange "what did you do last night" look from a young woman, make my way up to one of the viewing rooms upstairs. I probably could have gone back to the room, but I didn't want to wake anyone up. So, I sit against the wall, and look out at St Louis and the Arch. It's a very pretty sight, with the sun streaming from behind the clouds, bathing the Arch and the city in a soft light.

My legs begin to get cold, so I figure I should probably head back to the room. It's getting close to time for me to start getting ready to go play hockey anyway. I head down the elevators to the 5th floor where I'm greeted with another lovely sight, Darci heading up to the hot tub.

Anyway, back in the room, I start getting ready for the game, Shrader finds us a ride with Theresa, and we head off to the rink. Now, I'm excited to be playing hockey, but I'm a little down, at the same time. The rink we're playing at is about 30 minutes by car from the city, and we only have enough car space for myself and Shrader. This isn't really a big deal, as everyone else would probably enjoy the Anheuser-Busch brewery tour more, but I wanted to have a cheering section. I've played hockey all my life, and almost never in front of fans. Sure, my parents would come to my games, and my senior year of high school my friends would come to home games, but no one's ever played a cowbell for me. It was one of the things I was looking forward to this weekend. I guess it wasn't to be.

We get to the rink, and get changed. I head to the ice, and wonder briefly if I'll remember how to skate, or, more importantly (because who really forgets how to skate? I'm just being stupid there) - are my skates sharp at all? I can't remember the last time I had them sharpened, nor how long I'd played on them since. Moment of truth as I step on the ice and...my edges hold! Drop my water off on the bench, and test the edges on some turns. They'll do.

Let's get this game started! I end up on defense...and do my best Brian Yandle impersonation. It's been way too long since I've played an organized game, or well, skated at all. I have little bursts of energy, but it fades fast. I manage to be invisible on 2-on-1's, and feel pretty much directly responsible for at least three goals. Oh well, I still throw the weight around a bit, and give Shrader some great advice when he is awarded a penalty shot: "Skate in and put the puck past the goalie into the net" (he followed it, and it worked perfectly).

The game wraps up with my team well on the losing end (oh well), and we move on to the mini-skills competion. Yep, that means penalty shots. I'm excited about this, but nervous at the same time. At my best, I have limited moves on the breakaway - I'm more inclined to rip off a wrist shot from the high slot than to try to skate in on the goalie. And, having no energy after playing for the first time in a long time, I doubt I'll have any moves at all.

Theresa and Shrader go, both getting stoned, and I skate to center ice for my chance. I start from the blue line, skating long figure-8's until the ref blows the whistle and I turn forward and pick up the puck at center ice. I close in on the goalie, starting wide on my forehand side, come across towards the center of the net as though I'm switching to backhand, then cut back and fire a wrist shot from the slot. The puck sneaks between the waistline of the goalie and the near post. Goal. And the crowd goes...well, not nuts, but I get a nice cheer from my teammates.

We end up going through the lines again, trying against whichever goalie we choose. I toy with the idea of not going again, and staying "perfect", but I figure, "what the hell?", and skate out again, skating in on the other goalie. For some reason, I try to do the reverse of my earlier move, but my backhand shot is not very good, and I end up putting the puck wide of the net. Eventually, I take a second shot at this goalie, using my first move, and put the puck in the net, just inside the near post (after the game, one of the spectators compliments me on my wrist shot).

It's been a fun afternoon (even though Theresa refused to take my advice on any of her penalty shots - it was slightly different than what I told Shrader, but I think it would have work...or at least been fun to see), and Shrader decides to put a memorable punctuation mark on it. And by "memorable", I of course mean "bloody". It goes down like this: he wants to do something different and stupid on a penalty shot. He tried the "throw the glove to distract the goalie" move to no success, so he wants to try something a little more unique. He decides to dive on his stomach and try to stick handle around the goalie. On fresher ice, it might have had more of a chance of succeeding. After two hours of continuous skating, though, this ice is nowhere near fresh. I'm somewhat surprised the puck is still sliding. Given that, if you were still going to try the move, wearing a helmet might have been a smart choice. Stupid Buffalo kids. He skates in, dives forward, and smashes his face into the ice. He gets up and skates back towards us, blood pouring down his face, a gash above his left eye. Yeah, I think that's the signal that the game is over.

We take the group photos, and Shrader goes to find someone to clean his wound, get changed, and head off to the hospital (11 stitches - 8 external, 3 internal). I catch a ride with some other friends back to the hotel, where my plan is to shower and do some laundry, hopefully making it to the game by the National Anthem.

My legs are dead. I am beat. Didn't hurt myself, but I have no energy. I could have done laundry after the shower (best shower of the weekend, by the way), but everyone was lounging around the room, and the bed looked exceptionally comfortable. Laundry can wait.

I don't even remember what we were watching, but eventually it's time to head over to the arena. I find some overpriced food (since I haven't eaten since 9am), take pictures of a couple of jerseys, then head up the stairs to our seats. So. Many. Steps. Ugh.

The teams are announced, the anthem is sung, and the puck drops on the last college hockey game of the 2006-07 season. Michigan State about to be trounced by BC. Except, um, they're not getting trounced. However, BC does seem to be a step faster. The first period ends 0-0, but BC is wearing MSU down. Eventually MSU will tire out, and BC will open things up.

After 2, BC has the lead, 1-0. Lerg is playing well in net for Michigan State, though, looking much more solid than he did two nights earlier. Had that Lerg shown up tonight, this game would be already over. In fact, about 5 minutes into the third period, we all thought it was over. Joe Rooney comes streaking into the zone along with Brian Boyle and just one defender between them and the net. Rooney holds the puck, drawing the defender over to him, then snaps a pass to the circus freak who rips a one timer. Somehow, Lerg is there, his glove flashes, and the attmept is thwarted. Michigan State has been checking well for the past 30 minutes of game time, and it has paid off, negating the speed of BC, and evening up the game.

10 minutes into the third period, Michigan State finally finds the back of the net, a nifty power play goal that ties the game at 1. We are exciting, as none of us has ever seen a national title game go into overtime in person (we'd seen on TV, of course), it's really the most exciting way to end the season, the red light comes on, and it's instant pandemonium. Also, we just want to cling onto hockey season as long as possible. We really wouldn't mind seeing multiple overtimes - it's not like we have anything on the line in this game.

With 1:05 to go, we ask the scorekeeper how much time is left, then thank him, and get a little more excited. This game is going to overtime. 30 seconds. MSU is driving to the net. OT is coming. 20 seconds left. Here comes - wait, the red light's on. They scored? They scored! Michigan State scores with 18.9 seconds left in the game. The Spartan faithful are going absolutely nuts. York calls a timeout, and pulls Cory Schneider. This is tense. BC is definitely a team that can scored in 18 seconds, especially with the extra attacker. They get a few chances, but can't capatalize, and Michigan State dumps the puck into the empty net. 3-1, and the crowd goes wild again as the bench empties, gloves and sticks flying into the air, the Michigan State team crowding around Lerg in a massive pile. There's just one problem.

There's 1.7 seconds left in the game.

The refs chase the cameras off the ice, and instruct the team to pick up their gear and get just five skaters on the ice. Everything is cleaned up, but the teams don't even line up for the face off. The ref starts the clock, and the celebration begins...again. So, unofficially, the game was only 59:58 long, instead of 60:00. Shortest game ever.

We watch the trophy ceremony (and hold back from booing Marty Scarano as he presents MSU with the trophy - though I really hope he heard us singing Black Betty in the third, when he was standing nearby; nice timing by the sound guy there), meet up with Gib and head off to find some food. After dinner we head back to the room. I figure I should go say hi to Jenna, since she got us tickets, and has been providing cheap booze to me and my friends all weekend, and I've only been to her room once, and even then, rather briefly. She's taking the loss much better than I would have, and the atmosphere in the room is typically upbeat.

I don't stay long, though. I want to do laundry, or possibly even check-in for my flight. I get the clothes and head up to the 8th floor. A woman is using the one washing machine. What? Who the hell does laundry in a hotel at midnight on a Saturday? What a weirdo. Shot down there, I head up to the 13th floor to use the computer and printer in the business center, since it's open 24/7. The business center may be open 24/7, but the hallway to get to the business center certainly isn't. That makes sense. I head back down to the room, and consider heading back up to Jenna's room, as everyone is still up there. I am beat, though, and the bed looks very very very very enticing. Even moreso than the prospect of Darci without pants on*, so you know I'm tired. Even if I hadn't wanted to do laundry, I wouldn't have been able to stay in Jenna's room much longer.

I put on some calm music on the iPod (Spiritualized - excellent "drift off to sleep in a big, comfy bed music") and read my book (The Boys of Winter - great read on the "Miracle on Ice" team), and my night's over. Well, almost. My drifting to sleep is interrupted by Darci bounding back into the room to get her juice.

"You just missed a fight!" she says.
Various thoughts run through my mind. There are a few people in that room right now I could see mixing it up, and lord knows who has shown up since I left. I ask who was involved.
"Steve and Can9Thompson," she says. I'm a bit shocked. They are both BC fans, and pretty good friends. Pretty much the last two I'd have guessed.
"Steve was on the couch, and Thompson went over to him. They were talking and Thompson threw popcorn at Steve. Next thing we knew, they were going at it, broke Steve's glasses, they knocked over the coffee table - drinks everywhere - people had to pull them apart. Steve locked himself in his room, so none of them can get in. It was crazy!" She bounds back out of the room.

And now my night's over.

COMING UP: Don't go away yet, folks, this trip ain't over. Not by a long...layover in Chicago. Stay tuned for Westward Hosers! Part 5 - The Voyage Home.

*No, this wasn't really going to happen, and if it did, it's probably nothing like what you're thinking. Get your mind out of the gutter.

Frozen Four 2007: Westward Hosers! Part 3 - Gateway to the Skills Casino

2007-04-16T23:17:00.000-04:00

Holy crap, we snore a lot.

I would love to sit here and complain about Jay and Gib snoring and walking me up throughout the night, but I know that I snore as much as anyone, and I'm sure that I woke everyone else up a few times over the course of the weekend. At least Darci didn't have to wallop me with a pillow to get me to stop this time.

Anyway, morning comes way too quickly, so I sleep a little bit more, then get up and get ready for the day (and Shrader finds that once again, he has to change clothes - at least this time it was his own clothes he'd put on). We're going up in the arch today! We head downstairs to have lunch in the sports bar, where we sit next to some North Dakota people (including head coach Dave Hakstol - the NoDak team was staying in our hotel) and the service is typical St Louis service. They sat down and ordered before us, but we got our food first. St Louis just hasn't been good to the Sioux so far this weekend.

We get our cameras, and head to the Metro. The Metro is pretty nice. It's nearly all self-serve. There are little kiosks where you purchase your own tickets, without having to interact with another human being who'd be able to do helpful things like explain the different types of tickets, suggest which one to purchase for your given purpose, and give you some reason to actually buy a ticket (they are not scanned as you get on the train, and no one has checked my ticket any time I've ridden the train). But, customer service is pretty low on the list of things St Louis offers tourists (right above convenience stores, and right below "lively atmosphere"), so we muddle our way through the process, buy all-day tickets, and head to the arch.

The Arch is a 630-foot monument to the westward expansion of the 1800's. It is situated in a small park on the banks of the Mississippi. It's quite an impressive sight to behold from across the city, and even more impressive when standing underneath it. I'm sure you've been to national monuments like the Washington Monument, or the Bunker Hill Monument - obelisks, jutting straight up into the sky. Imagine two of those, but taller (about 1oo feet taller than Washington, nearly 3 times as tall as Bunker Hill), and arching over to meet at their highest point. It's massive.

Take this advice - if you're going on a weekend (or when there are a lot of tourists in town), buy your tickets online the day before you go, and get there about 30 minutes early, as there will be a long line to get through security. And, if you don't already have tickets, you'll have an even longer line inside, just to buy tickets. Yeah, and go to the south entrance (even if you bought tickets for the North Tram - it doesn't matter which entrance you use). Everyone goes to the north entrance for some reason.

A couple of further warnings: if you are afraid of heights, don't worry. While you will be looking out at the world from 630 feet above it all, it's really not all that scary. The real worry is claustrophobia. If you are at all claustrophobic, you may have some problems. Especially getting up and down the arch, as you will be packed into a 5-person tram that's about the size of those little car-shaped carts that grocery stores provide for little kids. Also, if you have a problem being inside very large structures that sway in the wind, you may have some issues in the arch (though, it should be noted that the wind was gusting to 25mph while we were out there, and the arch really didn't sway much in that - it's pretty sturdy).

Much like the blues bar, the Arch is a place I'd like to stay much longer than the rest of my group, so I do, and take a bunch of pictures. I tried to take a picture of Darci on the ground, but my camera wasn't quite up to the task. I head down, and we head back to the hotel (after a quick stop at the Union Station Mall to pose with the Hobey Baker trophy and pick up some food-type stuff). Darci, Jay, and Gib decide to head up to the hot tub, as we have a couple hours before the Hobey Baker award ceremony and the skills competition. Unfortunately for them, the pool area is closed in the middle of the day for some reason, so they have to wait an hour. Which means Darci has to hang out in her bathing suit. Yeah, I'm not complaining.

They soak a bit, I do some work on my photos, then we all head over to the Scottrade Center for the ceremonies/competition. The Hobey Baker presentation is somewhat interesting, with a small group of seats and a podium set up at center ice, and the arena is a lot more full than I thought it would be. The actual show is...interesting. I'm not exactly sure what they were going for, but dating one girl for 5 years is not the same as "not having much luck with the ladies". And just because he didn't come up with the idea of asking her to marry him all on his own, that doesn't mean that "she had to ask him". Oh, and when conducting an interview, it's best to actually ask a question. Failing that, end your statement with something the player being interviewed can build off of - talk about his play, or his team. Don't mention that he wears braces and has nice teeth (unless the guy is from Maine - then that might be acceptable, as it would be a surprise!).

Anyway, St Louis decides to be a little nicer to North Dakota, and Ryan Duncan wins the Hobey Baker.

Up next is the Humanitarian Award. Can you feel the tension build? ...neither can anyone in the arena. Congratulations to Kristin Savard of Yale, who wins the award for her great work helping...someone do...something... I don't mean to belittle the work she has done, as I'm sure she has helped the community (and I seem to remember something about third-world child mortality rates, so apparently she's been working to change the world), but I sat through all the lectures I ever want to in college, and the last thing I want to do is sit through a lecture in a 20,000-seat hockey rink. Out of respect for Ms Savard though, we stay in our seats and listen (somewhat) attentively to her entire speech. Then Mike and I take off to test our skills in the Blues shooting cage.

First up is accuracy: 10 shots in 20 seconds to hit 5 targets (four corners and 5-hole). I hit 2 (or 3, I can't really remember), and clang a couple of posts. I think Mike hit 3. Not bad at all. Then, we get to test our shot: 3 slap shots. Well, 3 shots. Mike takes 3 slap shots and gets up into the high-50s. My first shot is a slap shot. Well, an attempt at a slap shot. I get more floor than puck, and send the biscuit soaring at a feeble 29mph. Yeah, no more of that. I go with the wrister for my next two. The second shot was a little off, but I get the third cranked up pretty well, sending it into the net at 49mph. I could have done better, but I do appreciate the compliments from one of the guys watching.

Back to the skills competition. We get back to our seats just in time to miss all the introductions, but see the beginning of the first event - a puck handling relay. Each team has three skaters, first round is girl-guy-girl, second round is guy-girl-guy. The East does well in the first round, but loses the second. I cry foul, as the West apparently has three guys skating out there. That's not fair! Wait, they're being interviewed. Oh...that's...a girl?

Anyway, the competition continues, and offers some rare sights. A gentleman from St Louis wins a car when he sinks a center ice shot through a hole in a board (that was sick). Then, Merrimack senior Mike "Bless You" Alexiou scores on 6 of his 8 one-timer chances against Hobey Hat-Trick finalist David Brown. I am a) no longer impressed with Brown, and b) confused as to where this offensive outburst has been for Merrimack. And then, UNH's own Mel Bourdon stops 7 of the 8 one-timers she faces (pretty much typical for her - 1 goal per seven shots; the eigth shot is the start of the next seven), but then shocks us as she manages to do something we almost never see her do, when she actually stops one of the three penalty shots she faces!

The competition wraps up with the West winning. This is an interesting omen, as each time the West has won the skills comp, a WCHA has won the National Title. This is very bad news for BC. Interestingly, it's just as bad news for Michigan State.*

We head back to the hotel, drop some stuff off, and head back to the Metro to travel across the Mississippi into East St Louis to find a casino. At the Metro, we're greeted by something we had not seen all weekend - a Metro employee actually checking tickets! Nice to know there was some reason to actually buy tickets.

We make our way to the Casino Queen without much trouble, and find our way to the actual casino. It's three smoke-filled floors of slot machines and gambling tables. We walk around for a few minutes, taking in the sights, as Darci and I are both casino virgins. In that few minutes, my clothes reek of all kinds of smoke, and my eyes are burning. We head for the "non-smoking" room, which is somewhat less smokey.

I've been intrigued by casinos for a while now. I enjoy poker and blackjack, and other games of chance, like video poker and slot machines. However, there is something about actually being here that just bothers me. With few exceptions, the people look rundown and tired, clinging to the bottom rungs of society. Some people seem to be genuinely enjoying themselves, but most seem to be playing the games out of routine, glassy-eyed, fueled by the addiction, driven by the elusive promise of the big payout. And the casino itself was dingy and old, in need of a thourough scrubbing. And probably some new carpets. It was all fairly depressing.

I spend about $15 playing nickel slots (a deceptive title, as you can spend up to 25 cents per spin, which means that instead of getting 20 spins per dollar, you'd only get 4 - with bigger payouts if you win). The last machine I played on, I spent $10, but played probably about twice that, so it wasn't too bad. Gib managed to win $90 on his machine. We head out, none to soon for my tastes. Everyone else seemed to enjoy themselves, though, so that's a good thing. If nothing else, it was an experience, and that's never a bad thing.

Back at the hotel, Gib treats us to pizza, and I head to bed relatively early, around 1:00am, I have a big day tomorrow, as I get to play hockey for the first time in over a year. And we still have to figure out how we're getting there. Stay tuned for part 4, coming soon!

*though, I guess you could say that every time the West wins the skills comp, a western team wins the nat'l title, which would be bad for BC, since Michigan State is a western hockey school (even though it is technically in the east).

It should also be noted that this is only the second time they've had a skills competition, so "every" doesn't hold much weight.

And, it should be further noted that we forgot all about the skills comp last year, so I have no idea if the West actually won or not.

We interrupt this blog...

2007-04-16T22:57:00.000-04:00

I wanted to take a moment and pause my recap of the Frozen Four to express my immense shock and sadness at the events that unfolded this morning in Blacksburg, Virginia, when a young man killed two people in a Virginia Tech dorm, then walked into a classroom and opened fire. Honestly, I saw the headline this morning (that there was a shooting, but not how serious), but didn't pay much attention until I actually heard the reports as I was on my way home from work. It was near 6pm, and the death count was up to 29. And still climbing.

I cannot fathom what the students on that campus, their families, and the residents of that community have gone through. From the students who were in that building, in that classroom, on campus this morning, the faculty that had to keep order and comfort their students, the families that heard the national news stories and had to wonder and fear whether the murdered students were their own sons or daughters or brothers or sisters, to the families who recieved the worst news of all, I simply cannot fathom the depths of fear and sadness they have experienced today. Honestly, I hope with all of my being that I never have to.

My thoughts and prayers are with everyone in that community, and my condolences go out to the families of those who lost loved ones today. A truly sad, tragic day.

Frozen Four 2007: Westward Hosers! Part 2.5 - Hockey, Hockey, and...Well, Less Hockey

2007-04-15T21:13:00.000-04:00

Everyone have their own pants on? Alright, then let's go watch some hockey!

First up is Maine v Michigan State, or "two teams I have sworn in the past that I would never root for (unless one of them was playing our bitter rival in a national tournament), one of whom is our bitter enemy, so I guess I'll have to root for the other team". Yeah, I've never liked Michigan State. I don't hate them the way I once did (it's been a while since I've actually considered myself a Michigan fan, though I still root for them), but there's something about them I just don't like. However, they are playing against Maine, so go Spartans!

And of course, my fate seems to be one of eternal disappointment as it's 4 minutes into the game, Maine has a 2-0 lead, is flying around the ice, and Michigan State looks like a D-II school out there. Ok, maybe not that bad, and they do cut the lead in half a few minutes after Maine's second goal, and had I been thinking clearly at this point, I might notice that Maine is starting to lose a step from their game, either from being unable to keep up their early frenetic pace, or because they are trying to play a more cautious, defensive game. Either way, they give up 4 straight goals to choke away a game it looked like they were in control of. That makes me feel a little bit better. North Dakota better win their game, though, because I'd much rather see MSU lose to the Sioux than the Eagles.

And it becomes even more evident as the second game unfolds that one of these teams will win. They are damn good, and the game is fast-paced and exciting. I'd be pretty surprised if Michigan State could skate with either of these teams.* The teams trade goals, and after 1 period, it's 1-1. After 2, it's 2-2. Through the first 13 minues of the 3rd, it's still 2-2.

And then things get interesting.

BC takes a 3-2 lead, but UND ties it up quickly with a TJ Oshie goal that will be the prettiest goal we'll see all weekend, when he lifts a backhander over Cory "NONE SHALL PASS" Schneider on the shorthand. BC would respond quickly though, and were just too good at clearing the puck for UND to muster a comeback with the goalie pulled.

The final buzzer sounds, and I realize that we're just 2 days away from hearing, "Your 2007 National Champions, The Boston College Eagles". And while that would make some of our friends quite happy, I'm really not looking forward to it (and, I think those friends who I'd be happy for would understand).

After the game, we head back to the hotel and try to figure out what to do that night. The decision is made much easier when some friends come to the room and tell us of a blues club nearby. We'll be damned if we're going to be in St Louis and not see some live blues music, so we agree to go.

Once again, St Louis is a tough city to figure out. We're following a Wisconsin fan who claims to know where the bar is, but isn't quite sure how to get there. We walk the wrong way around the hotel, and then the wrong way around Busch Stadium. What is strange about this is that we see almost no other people on the streets, at 10:30pm. In what other large city does that happen? Even on a Thursday night?

Eventually we find the bar, and I'm a little apprehensive. I knew after UNH lost in the regionals that I would feel really depressed when we got to the first game of the Frozen Four, and UNH wasn't there. And I was right. Granted, nothing's ever quite that simple, but seeing some team other than UNH giving their fans a stick salute really took a lot out of me, so while I really want to see some live music, when we finally get to the bar, I'm not really sure that I want to be there.

We pay the cover and head inside and I forget about pretty much everything else. Kim Massie is a large black woman with an incredible voice, and the bar (Beale on Broadway) is a tiny little place, no bigger than my apartment, which she fills with her voice. The place is so crowded, I lose everyone else, and end up standing in a corner by myself. I don't mind though. I'm captivated by the band.

Darci and most of the rest of out group head back to the hotel, as they don't like the cramped space - I stay behind. I'm pretty sure that I can find my way back to the hotel on my own if necessary, not that St Louis is a city I really want to be walking around alone after midnight (though, again, not like there's anyone out in the city to be worried about).

Some Cornell kids I know have showed up though, so I hang out with them and have some beer. Funny thing about the Frozen Four - we seem to forget about food while we're there. So, I've had almost nothing to eat all day, and nothing at all since the hot dog I had between the hockey games. Yeah, beer on an empty stomach? Not so good. Well, for staying sober, anyway. After the first, I'm not doing too bad. Then a table near us opens up and we sit down. I get up after the second to wash my hands, and realize that walking straight is not my friend. Halfway through the third, I realize I can't really feel my beer glass.

Somewhere in the middle of the third beer, Darci calls (apparently hoping I'd left the bar by that point, but it was only 1am, and the band had promised to play until 2:30 - I wasn't going anywhere). She realizes I won't be able to hear her, so she hangs up and texts me. She managed to lock the only room key their group had inside the room. Fortunately, Gib managed to get another key from the front desk. Which is good, because Ms Massie was in the middle of Tracy Chapman's "Gimme One Reason", and I really didn't want to leave. And, as noted, I am having trouble walking.

It is getting late, though, so I have a water after the third beer, then get up (the Cornell folk were leaving anyway), and go over to where shrader and Theresa were with some of our other friends and listen to the last hour of music there. Massie has been perfoming for 4+ hours, and is still going strong. She finishes with a reprise of "Let's Get It On" which she had performed earlier, and we leave the bar.

The music wasn't finished though, as Brian decides to serenade Shrader with hs own personalized rendition of "Let's Get It On". They share a hearty man-hug (that Theresa was not quick enough to get on camera), and we head back to the hotel.

3:30 am - looks like I'm getting paid to sleep in again tomorrow!

Up next - Part 3: Three things I don't have - arch, skills, and luck.

*I should note that all of this was my thinking at the time.

Frozen Four 2007: Westward Hosers! Part 2 - Sleepy Electric Boogaloo

2007-04-13T23:29:00.000-04:00

So, last year I gave a minute-by-minute recap of the time I was awake in Milwaukee (because there was a lot of that - Darci slept more during the day than I did at night out there). In St Louis, I slept a lot more than in Milwaukee. So, I figured I'd start Part 2 with a minute-by-minute recap of what happened after going to bed Wednesady night.

All times are approximate, and may be off by as much as an hour, or completely made up.

10:30 pm - Darci and I head back to the room, each of us getting ready for bed.
10:40 pm - We crawl into the plush Queen-sized beds. I really need a bed like this at home. Well, maybe not. If I had one, I'd probably never go to work. I'm pretty sure that would be a bad thing.
10:45 pm - I toss the heavy down comforter on the floor. There's a lighter one underneath. That's good, because while the top one was way too heavy, I turned down the termostat to 52 degrees (honestly, I was going to go down to the mid-50's, but Darci suggested 52 - like I was going to argue), so I figured I'd need something more than the topsheet.
10:46 pm - I explain some of this to Darci, but I think she's fell asleep before she even got into bed.
11:15 pm - My body starts shutting down, and I can't hold my book anymore. I shut the light off and go to sleep.
1:30 am - Gib and Mike return from drinking. They are very quiet, and quite stealthy. Yeah, they woke me up, but I wasn't sure if they had just gotten in, or even exactly which Hosers they were.
1:31 am - back to sleep.
4:29 am - Hey, remember that alarm we set in Milwaukee so that we could get up at 4:30 in the morning and get to the airport that didn't go off? Well, it's going off now, AND IT'S FUCKING LOUD!
4:30 am - I get the alarm to shut off and catch my breath.
4:31 am - Gib asks where Jay is. Darci and I realize that he hasn't come back to the room yet. We speculate for a bit on where he and Shrader could be, then go back to sleep.
5:30 am - Jason and Shrader return from Jenna's room, and loudly find their way around the room as quietly as possible. This might have gone smoother had they realized that we all woke up when they walked in, so it's not like they really needed to be quiet. Of course, given how drunk they were, I'm amazed they were even able to find the hotel room.
5:45 am - 6:30 am - I am awakened by the following exchanges between Darci and Jason:

"Jason! No cuddling!"
"I'm not."
"Yes, you are. Stop it!"
"Ok."

"Jay, stop. ...Jason! I am not your girlfriend!"
"I know."
"Then stop cuddling."
"I'm not."

And so on. Gib suggested using a baseball bat to keep the peace. I completely forgot I had a hockey stick in the other room. Probably would have worked perfectly, especially from the spot on the floor where Gib was sleeping.

6:45 am - We learn that even though Darci can curl up and fit inside a glove compartment, it's not always her preferred option, especially when hospital corners and drunk, gropy Jay are involved.

7:15 am - wake up, catch bits of sleep intermittantly until Darci and Gib also wake up.

8:00 am - official start of the work day. Everything that happens between now and 4:30, I am getting paid for. How sweet is that? This includes sleeping late, walking around St Louis looking for breakfast, and seeeing Darci in a bikini (she claims she's gained weight - if there's any extra there, she's wearing it quite well). I love vacation time.

So yeah, after all of this, we all get up, some of us go for a quick swim, then we get everyone together and head to a breakfast diner at which we didn't eat at all, but did get to hang out with Theresa, and take pictures of Jason falling asleep at the table.

Another trend we found in St Louis - the service SUCKS. Worst of any city I've been in. The people are generally friendly, but just slow as dirt. They make Yandle look speedy. We finally found the breakfast diner, and sat at a dirty table (we were told they'd clean it for us f we just sat down). The two waitresses walked by our table multiple times, and looked right at the dishes, and just walked on by. After 5-10 minutes of this, we took off and found the bagel place in the mall, where we nearly run into the one and only (thank God), Barry Melrose.

That's right folks, I was close enough to cut the mullet. Of course, I think all the grease in it s generated as a defense mechanism, so that no one can get a pair of scissors to cut through that mop.

Anyway, after breakfast, it's back to the room for a little downtime, Darci in bed with a bunch of guys, Shrader almost breaking Darci's nose, Darci nearly kicking Shrader in the head, and Phase 10 (of course).

Up next: Part 2.5 - hockey that's not the Blues, and blues that are not hockey.

Frozen Four 2007: Westward Hosers! Part 1 - Getting There

2007-04-10T20:56:00.000-04:00

Having to be up and at the airport earlier than you would normally get up for work sucks (got to the airport so early for a couple of reasons: a) I was worried about checking my hockey bag and stick, and b) Jim had to drive his wife to work in the morning, so he had to be back at his house by 6am). Especially when you don't get to enjoy a breakfast from the super-good leftovers from dinner the night before. These feelings can be tempered if there is someone you'd like to see meeting you at the airport. Not quite the case this trip, but the UNH dance team will have to suffice. I check my bag and stick (I enjoy confusing airline personnel), mosey into the security checkpoint line behind these pleasant-on-the-eyes young women and start chatting with a BC fan in line behind me. Turns out, this guy is 3 hours early for his 9am flight, because it was supposed to be a 6am flight, but it was cancelled, or something like that, and now he has to spend $1,300 to fly first-class roundtrip, and I feel really bad for him, especially when he mentions having to talk to his secretary about changing the flights. Except that I don't really feel bad at all.

I make it through the line without making any jokes about having liquids on me (airport security, while generally pleasant people, especially earlier in the day and at slow periods in the day, are not the type of people I like to joke around with - certain words drop out of my vocabulary when dealing with them), and put my shoes, jacket, laptop, laptop bag, and suitcase on the conveyor belt and walk through the metal detector - no problem. Everything comes out the other side of the conveyor belt, except my big bag. It goes bag in. Then again. This happened last year, too, though. It'll come out eventually...there it is. Except this time it's in the hands of a TSA guard.

"Is there anything sharp or dangerous in here?" she asks.
My mind races. What the hell did I pack? Clothes, cards, ThermoCare heat wrap in case I hurt myself playing in the pick-up game, spring-loaded bear trap set to snap on anyone other than me who opens the bag, cowbell...
"There's a drumstick," I say.
"He said it looked large and like it was crystal."
The Adamantium Bell of Death and Destruction.
"There's a shiny metal cowbell in there," I say, thinking the proper name of

The Adamantium Bell of Death and Destruction might not be as appreciated in Manchester Airport as it is in the Hoser Dome. She roots through my bag and finds the Adamantium Bell of Death and Destruction (conveniently located at the bottom of my bag - it is normal to have a cribbage board, Canadian flag, camera, and cowbell in your luggage, right?), puts everything back in and sends both through the machine. Everything checks out and I move on to my gate.

I've been told that Chicago got the nickname "the windy city" not for it's
winds, but due to it's
heightened political culture - i.e. a lot of hot air blowing around. Well,
don't be fooled, Chicago
has some nasty winds, too. And landing a plane in them is quite interesting.

In Chicago, it's 32 degrees. Not bad for...wait, it's April! I don't need summer weather (I'd prefer to avoid it, actually), but how about mid-50's? You know, borderline shorts weather? Nice enough, at least to be able to walk around wihtout a jacket on? Anyway, it's nice and warm inside the terminal, so I sit at my connection flight's gate, have some lunch, do some work, and learn something about airports. If the weather outside is cold, and you plan on spending a lengthy layover sitting at the gate with just a t-shirt on, make sure you are not sitting directly in front of the gate door. Unless, that is, you enjoy being buffeted by a surge of arctic air that chills you to your bones. Fortunately, I do enjoy that. In fact, I listed it as one of my "interests" on an online dating service I signed up for a while back. I wonder why I never got any calls...moving on...

Another windy, yet uneventful landing, and I'm across the Mississippi and into the West. Now, to find my way to the baggage claim, and get my stuff. There's a sign that reads, "Many bags look alike, check your claim ticket". Yeah, I'm not too worried - you don't see many old Cooper hockey bags and Koho sticks sitting on the carousel. Ok, so I have all my luggage, and I'm ready to head for the hotel. Now the fun begins.

How the hell do I get there?

We've been planning this trip for months, and I've been looking at the ways to get to the hotel from the airport and vice versa. I keep running across the Metro rail, a light rail service, seemingly similar to Boston's T, though (hopefully) simpler. The problem is, I've yet to see a single sign for it. Well, I suppose I could drop the $15 and take a cab...wait, there's a sign. I go that way!

And then this way.

And then turn here.

Keep going straight.

Straight again.

Turn here.

Walk up this ramp. Go straight.

Up the escalator.

Turn Right.

Another Right.

A little more to the right.

Hang a left!

Ticket machines. Ok, I'm a little lost, but with a little bit of friendly "no help at all" from the nice Metro worker, I manage to buy a 2-hour ticket, and find my way to yet another escalator, and yet another hallway. And the train! Finally. I drag my stuff in and have a seat, and the train pulls out of the station.

The people of St Louis are an enigma to me. In New England, the people are cold and difficult because that's the way the climate is. However, if you need help (and are willing to ask), New Englanders will surprise you with how friendly and outgoing they can be. St Louis people? Yeah, not so much. Any help they give you is like a burden unto them that they won't soon forget. Must come from being in a sort of "no man's land" between the North and the South.

So, the train pulls into my stop, I toss my stuff on the platform, see our
hotel right in front of me, and the arena right next door and smile. Finally something will be easy...until I get into the crosswalk, get blown sideways and lose my hockey bag. I gather my stuff, fight the wind, and force my way into the hotel lobby. I can't imagine what I look like, but I can imagine that it's nothing like what the typical customer here looks like.

Some interesting facts about our hotel:

- The rooms are HUGE. Bedroom and living room. Biggest place I've ever stayed, comparable to the place in Mississauga.

- The hotel has a 13th floor. One of the first buildings I've been in that has a 13th floor, to my knowledege. Apparantly Missourians are not very superstitious. Or, just proud of the fact that they can count to 13.

- The 13th floor has a pool. That is another first for me. Generally, if someone told me, "the pool's up on the 13th floor", I would think they were giving me crap and start pummeling them with my hockey stick until they apologized for being a jackass (once again, sorry for the misunderstanding, Mark; your hotel was very nice).

- The hotel actually stops at the 8th floor. Floors 9 through 12 are condos. That's where I'd want to live - right in the middle of a massive tourist hotel. Just think about it. You could live there with your wife, while messing around with someone in the hotel...ok, not the best idea.

- I did not actually beat anyone up over the pool. That would just be silly.

- There are viewing rooms on the 13th floor. Great view of the ballpark, the arch, and downtown. Also lots of back hallways to lose drunk Jay in.

- 519=619=615

- There are a single block of smoking rooms, and when you walk down that hallway, you know it. Masks on!

With nearly everyone in, we leave keys with the front desk for Shrader and Mike, and head to Busch Stadium. It's cold. Damn cold. And there are a lot of stairs. At least it'll be a good game, right?

Hell no.

Huddled for warmth, we watch as the game ends 10-0 (Mets win), then scurry back to the hotel to warm up and find something to drink/eat. We head to the hotel restuarant/bar as we'd eaten there earlier, and had some luck. Not so much this time. Broken dishwasher, and no Blue. Or something like that. Either way, we take off. It's nearly 11pm. At this time last year, I was still waiting for Shrader to show up, and would be up for another 20+ hours from that point. This year, the long flight out, lack of sleep earlier in the week, and lingering cold symptoms led me to find a bed while the others (except Darci, who was feeling worse than me and also heading to bed) went ot find some booze (i.e. Jenna's Room).

And so ends day 1 of the Frozen Four. Not as exciting as the first day in Milwaukee. Part 2 should be better. Stay tuned!

Frozen Four 2007: Westward Hosers! - Prologue

2007-04-10T20:49:00.000-04:00

I'd like to just give an overview of my week leading up to the Frozen Four, as it was fairly different from last year. Last year, I had a fairly normal few days before leaving. Pack up, rest up, leave. this year, not so much.

It started innocently enough, dinner at my brother's to celebrate our mother's birthday. Afterwards, however, instead of simply heading home and getting my stuff ready, I decided to head over to Jim's, where we played baseball, watched TV, and I stayed out way too late. At work the next day, I realized I still wasn't quite over my cold, and the lack of sleep wasn't helping.

Monday night, I should go to bed earlier, but I have to pack, or at least get my stuff ready. So I pick through my hockey gear, figuring out what is needed, and what I have room for. I make sure things fit, and are in good condition. Now that that's settled, I look at my clean clothes. this doesn't take long, as I have no clean clothes (not even for work the next day). So, I round up what I think I'd need, and start doing laundry. At 10pm. Different day, same story - another late night.

Tuesday night, I'm going to dinner with mom, but that shouldn't keep me out too late, and I should be able to finish packing while watching House and The Shield. Yeah, I usually watch those with Jim, but as he's planning on being at my house at 5:45am the next morning...oh, what the hell, I'll finish packing after dinner and head over. Of course, I have to pcak my hockey gear in a smaller bag, and still pack my clothes...yeah, yet another late night, and I'm still feeling crappy. Late to bed, early to rise, and Jimmy banging on my door as I get out of the shower. Scrape the rest of my stuff together, and it's off to the airport we go.

March of the Eagles, April of the...?

2007-03-19T12:38:00.000-04:00

The Hockey East playoffs have come and gone, and the hosers go home sad once again. At least UNH is making it interesting this year, as in the past 2 months, we've seen them

-play poorly
-then play awesome
-then play just ok
-then play pretty good again
-then play poorly again
-then play poorly and good in the same game
-then play like crap
-then play a little better
-then play great
-then play great again
-then start out great, slip a little, play poorly, but still win
-then start flat, get down by 4, then make it close before losing the Hockey East final to BC.

Who needs consistancy?

Even after faltering at the end of the regular season, UNH still maintained a high enough PWR to get a #1 seed in the regional. So, if they can beat Miami (Ohio), and BC manages to get by St Lawrence, we get a chance to see UNH lose to BC a fourth time in four games. Sounds like a certain other Hockey East "big 4" school, who lost 4 in a row to UMass at the end of the season/playoffs. UNH should have lost the first matchup with BC. Then we could have one-upped Maine! Yeah, that'd show them!

So yeah, I'm kinda down on the team right now. I honestly believe that when they play as good as they can (and we saw stretches of it this past weekend, though not nearly enough), they can beat anyone in the country. Unfortunately, they aren't playing as good as they can right now. Hopefully, they can find it inside themselves and recapture what they had before February. No iPods are on the line this weekend, nor in St Louis, should they make it that far. No, something much more valuable is on the line.

Glory.

The chance to become legends.

I don't know that anyone in the locker room, either the coaches or the captains would ever say anything quite like this, but it seems fitting right now (maybe moreso this coming Sunday, should the first round shake out the way we think it will). It's the words of Herb Brooks, from his pregame speech before the US took on Russia in the 1980 Olympic Games, and I'm sure we all know it, have heard it countless times, either in "Miracle" or just in documentaries/books/stories about that game. No, UNH isn't the biggest underdog in this tournament, but they are certainly regarded as the weakest #1 seed, and most people who watched them play at the end of the season don't think they have much of a shot of getting very far in the national tournament, with BC, and probably Minnesota standing in the way:

"Great moments... are born from great opportunity. And that's what you have here, tonight, boys. That's what you've earned here tonight. One game. If we played 'em ten times, they might win nine. But not this game. Not tonight. Tonight, we skate with them. Tonight, we stay with them. And we shut them down because we can! Tonight, WE are the greatest hockey team in the world. You were born to be hockey players. Every one of you. And you were meant to be here tonight. This is your time. Their time is done. It's over. I'm sick and tired of hearing about what a great hockey team the Soviets have.

Screw 'em. This is your time. Now go out there and take it."

Presenting the future with the gift of the past, the blog is back!

2007-03-05T20:32:00.000-05:00

I have no idea what the title means, but it sounds cool, right?

It's been a while since I've posted on here, so I thought I'd give some quick recaps of what's been taking up my time in the past few weeks (other than the usual answer - hockey; though, I have been busy with that, too).

So, here's the big one: I undertook the "RPM Challenge" - record an album (10 songs or 35 minutes of music) in the month of February. 28 days to record an entire album. How hard could that be? I've recorded songs in the past, using various programs. That was my thinking on February 1st. By February 21st, when we're in the final week, the pressure starts to creep in. You only have 20 minutes of music spread over 8 songs. Your favorite songs only check in at 2 and a half minutes. You try messing with tempos, make things slower and longer, but that doesn't sound as good. You try to stretch passages, but then you risk boring the listener. And on top of all that, you don't have a CD cover!

Ok, the CD cover is the least important issue here, but it's on your mind. Yeah, you want this to sound good, but you want it to look good, too. At least I do. Especially when my concept for the cover ties into the music. In the end, you stay up until 1:30 in the morning, only to find that the idea you wanted to use just isn't working out so you go with a photo you took of a girl on a beach in Florida. And, it works just as well, and maybe even better. Especially since her voice is on the album, and she inspired at least one song.

In the end, the challenge was pretty great. I quickly found out that I am indeed an amateur. I've put together music before, but mostly from pre-recorded loops. Most of what I'd tried to write back then wasn't very good. This time, though, I had a bunch of melodies/songs that I felt good about, and wanted to get them into some listenable form. I ended up using 4 different computers (my Dell desktop, Toshiba laptop, G4 iMac, and the G5 Mac I use at work), my cell phone, my acoustic guitar, and even some sheet music.

Of the 13 tracks, there are only 4 on which I didn't write at least the main melody. And on those 4, I modfied loops to make them more my own.

And, this album features something that doesn't appear in any project I've done before - an entire song of just me on my guitar. I've played my guitar on songs before, but never this much, and never by itself.

I called the band P, and named the album "When Robots Dream" (which I think is better than my initial idea), and I tried to do what I call "emo techno". The problem with that is I'm terrible at writing lyrics. I may be good at essays and fiction, but poetry has always been my weakest subject - think Brian Yandle's skating, or, if you don't know who Brian Yandle is (meaning you're not one of my 4* regular readers), think Mick Jagger's acting. So, instead of having good "emo" lyrics (I know, that sounds like an oxymoron, but you'll have to trust me - there is some good emo out there), I settled for Fall Out Boy-esque long song titles.

For example, here's the track listing:
01 - I Close My Eyes and See the Life I'll Never Lead
02 - Springtime in the Fall
03 - Waking Up Next to You Would be the Greatest Feeling in the World
04 - Another Song for my Dream Girl
05 - Drifting Into You
06 - How to Make a Bad Day Instantly Better
07 - No Wet Streets, No Locked Gate, No Time on the Clock
08 - I Want to Break Your Heart Just to See Your Scar
09 - Nothing Says "I Love You" Like Robots Speaking Gibberish
10 - So Much to Say and Nothing Comes Out Right
11 - There's No Such Thing as a Happy Ending (Disney Lied to You)
12 - Ten Seconds Can Feel Like a Lifetime
13 - Oh Canada (Godfather Hoser Mix)

There's nothing emo about "Oh Canada" - it's just a techno version of a great national anthem. As for the rest of them, well, there are stories behind each. It should be noted that in my opinion, one of the great things about music is the fact that it is so open to personal interpretation. The listener can attach their own meanings to the songs. The way I interpret a certain Pearl Jam song may be completely different from the way you do, and the way it was written. So, keep in mind that these notes are just my thoughts on the songs. If you take something completely different away from the music, that is great (and I'd love to hear about it). Here's some highlights:

I Close My Eyes and See the Life I'll Never Lead - I'm sure we all do this, and if I could write lyrics, they'd be about settling down with a girl in a large house with a great job, or something like that. As is, the song is about being a famous musician, the crowd going wild as I step out on stage, the bassline building up, snaking around the piano part, driving guitar, and a solid drumline. It reminds me of Radiohead. Now it just needs a high-pitched vocalist singing about something depressing. Wait, that was the original idea... This is one of the songs that is built all from pre-recorded loops, though I did alter them via effects.

Springtime in the Fall - Probably my least favorite title. I just couldn't get it to sound quite right. Fortunately, I really like the way the song came out, especially the ending, where it cuts out and sounds like an old radio - a technique that I later realized I picked up from Pink Floyd's "Have a Cigar". Which means I can now list Radiohead and Pink Floyd as influences. That's pretty sweet right there. This is another song with all pre-recorded loops, though I did modify some loops to create the baseline, and for the various effects heard throughout the song.

Waking Up Next to You Would be the Greatest Feeling in the World - I think the title is pretty self-explanatory, other than who "you" is, and I'm not telling (though, yeah, some of you probably could guess rather easily). This is the track that is all me. That's me on guitar, playing a song I wrote. It's short, and I want to work on it a little more, but I really like it. I stumbled onto it while trying to remember how to play a tune I came up with a few years back, but hadn't played in a while, mainly because to play it, I'd have to tune my guitar from the normal EADGBe to DADDDD - the middle pair of D's are the same note, and the high pair of D's are the same note. Gives a "droning octave" sound, and the low E tuned down to D gives the song a bass line of sorts. The sound of it, always struck me as waking up to something great that you weren't quite expecting.

Another Song for My Dream Girl - Ahhhh, my dream girl (the aforementioned "you"). If I could sleep all day, and just dream about her. Hell, I spend half my time when awake day-dreaming about her (though she doesn't really exist**). So, I wrote a song about her. Then, I wrote another song about her. This is the first song on this album that I wrote on my guitar, then transposed into a synth in Apple's GarageBand software. It's hard to tell from the way the song turned out, but the original guitar line initially sounded a lot like the one found in Beck's "I Think I'm in Love". So, we can add Beck to my list of influences.

Drifting Into You - Weird bassline, further tweaked by filters, some synths, a tweaked guitar and drum line in the first half, melting away to strings and sci-fi textures. Reminds me of a busy day coming to a close, getting into bed and drifting off to sleep. Where, of course I see "you".

How to Make a Bad Day Instantly Better (Long Version) - This one really probably should have been called "How to Make Any Day Instantly Better (Long Version)", but I went with bad, for some reason. Probably because it's more emo. Yeah, we'll go with that. This is the only track on the album with actual vocals. Well, human vocals, anyway. It features a voicemail I got from Darci about the tickets for the Maine games at the beginning of February. It was a simple message, but it made me smile, and it struck me as something that might sound good with some music behind it. So, I chopped it up, dropped some filters on it, and threw some music behind it. If you listen closely, you can hear an acoustic guitar strumming a single chord at the beginning of each measure. Yep, that's me again.

At this point, it should be noted that you could look at this album as having two halfs. The first is light and airy, almost cheerful. The second gets darker, and less cheerful (Oh Canada is technically a bonus track, so doesn't count towards either half). The turning point really comes in:

No Wet Streets, No Locked Gate, No Time on the Clock - I actually wrote most of this after a friend's wedding a few years back (and it started out as a poem/song with lyrics). Another guitar-to-electronic song. It took me a while to find an instrument that sounded right, but then I found the arpeggiated muted acoustic guitar, and it was PERFECT. The title refers to a song by Dashboard Confessional (good emo) called "Hands Down". According to the lead singer, "Hands Down" is about "the best date [he] ever had", and at the end, before the girl kisses him "like [she] meant it", he refers to seeing the time on the clock, walking her home on wet streets, and finding the gate locked. So, this is kinda my ode to not having dates like that. "No Time on the Clock" also has a lesser reference to hockey, as time runs out on a team.

(There is another way to look at this song, though - "No Wet Streets" and "No Locked Gate" are good things - dry weather, and you can get into your yard, and "No Time on the Clock"...well, I guess you could see that as not having to worry about time.)

I Want to Break Your Heart Just to See Your Scar - Ok, this sounds mean (or, well, worse than mean - downright cruel and heartless), which fits with the "dark half" of the album, but it's actually fairly innocent. It, like nearly all of the other songs is about a girl. This one, though, is about a girl who fell off her bike when she was five years old, landing on her face. The injuries where such that her doctors initially suspected her father of child abuse. She was left with a scar that faded as she got older, until it got to the point where it apparently can only be seen if she's crying hard - heart-broken crying, if you will (yes, T, if you are reading this, it's about you - I hope I have the story right).

Now, I don't really want to break this girl's heart. I don't really want to break any girl's heart, as that's pretty mean. I do, however, like the idea that I could break a girl's heart. I toyed with lyrics for this song - they were about being shown something intensely personal and that few others see, as well as being able to do things that I really don't think will ever happen (i.e. me breaking someone's heart). It is yet another guitar-to-electronic song.

Nothing Says "I Love You" Like Robots Speaking Gibberish - Probably my least favorite song here, but that's not saying a lot, as I like all of them a lot. Written completely on the PC, this is the other song with vocals. They are totally generated by the software, and are designed to sound like a robot. Basically, I took two sentences in the robo-speech-synth, chopped them up, and mixed the words around. In the end, it sounds like gibberish, though they are actually saying things (no, I won't publish the "lyrics" - you can ask, but I can't promise you'll get an answer). I wrote this song a couple of years ago, though I did update one of the instruments to relate more to the present day.

So Much to Say and Nothing Comes Out Right - The title is a lyric from the song "New Year's Project" by Further Seems Forever (featuring the same lead singer as Dashboard Confessional - another example of "good emo"). I was messing around with a drum loop, experimenting a bit with changing the tempo and other effects. In the end, the title just fit so well, that I couldn't not use it. (And I bet you thought this had something to do with a girl, didn't you? Not this time, my friend. Not this time.)

There's No Such Thing as a Happy Ending (Disney Lied to You) - So many Disney movies end with the super-happy ending that it's come to be known as a "Disney Ending". After seeing these all my life, I feel like I've been trained to believe that everything always works out for people, and the losers who keep trying and stay true to themselves eventually succeed, and I've learned that it's all crap. Disney lied. And worse, they lied to kids, the most impressionable people outside of organized religion. There's a much longer rant attached to this song, so I'll just say that the drums and bass were inspired by (and an attmept to sound like) Filter's "Hey Man Nice Shot".

Ten Seconds Can Feel Like a Lifetime - This song is deep. As in, there is A LOT of bass in this song. It's basically two notes - C and A, but the lowest C and A on the piano keyboard. If you don't have good speakers, you won't get the full effect of this song. Headphones work well. Don't bother if you're on a laptop. The song was only supposed to be ten seconds of white noise to seperate the rest of the album from "Oh Canada", making it more of a bonus track. In the process, I found some neat sounding synths, and messed around. So, it was supposed to be ten seconds, and it ended up a minute and a half.

Oh Canada (Godfather Hoser Mix) - It's "Oh Canada"...what more needs to be said?

So, in the end, I find that my main influences on this album are Radiohead, Pink Floyd, Beck, Dashboard Confessional, Further Seems Forver, and Filter, at the very least.

And that's how I saved the country from the roving marauders from...um, I mean, that's the story of what I've been doing for the past few weeks. It was fun, I got some really good songs out of it, and it has become a VERY long blog post.

* This is an exaggeration. It's really more like...just Erinn. Hi Erinn! As another point of clarification, the comment on Mick Jagger's acting is a reference to the movie Freejack.

** Well, technically, she does, in that there is a female being possessing all the physical characteristics and most of the personality traits of the girl I dream about, but she lacks a key trait in that she would never go out with me. So, realistically, that girl in my dreams does not exist in real life.

This Post Could Play Left Wing on Merrimack's 2nd Line

2007-02-10T23:43:00.000-05:00

-I love pajama day. Especially at a road game.

-Holy crap, Merrimack sucks. The only thing worse than their team is their fans. "Safety School" was almost clever the first time. The second time was just stupid. And God is on your side? Too bad his son plays for UNH.

-It's a little sad when the little kids who are coming out on your home ice to play an intermission game wave to the visiting crowd because the visitors cheer more for them.

-OK, so I'm pretty sure Fuddrucker's puts crack in their burgers, because I'm hooked. I'm thinking about going to more Merrimack games just so I can go there before the game for dinner. I could be a Merrimack fan, teach them some cheers, get fans to the games on time... I'm used to living in basements...

-It's not worth it, though. Tickets are nearly as expensive, for a crappier rink, and I'd much rather go to games with the occupant of seat 13 than have great hamburgers before every game (that's really not a tough decision - it would take a lot more for me to give that up).

-The burger was really good, though.

-And apparently God likes losers. Maybe there was a typo in the original version of the Bible - "the Mack shall inherit the earth"? Whatever. I like being able to watch my team in the playoffs.
-Oh, and I saw a picture of Oswego's new rink, and I have to say, I don't think Merrimack could compete with D-III schools either. ACHA, anyone?

-Pajama day really emphasizes what Erinn was talking about Friday night. There are two universes/worlds: hockey, and everything else. In the "everything else" world, I would feel very self-conscious about pumping gas in my pajamas, bathrobe, and slippers; or walking around a full arena in my pajamas, bathrobe, and slippers; or walking around Stop n' Shop in my pajamas, bathrobe, and slippers. In the "hockey" world, I have no problem with it, and actually enjoy the attention.

-And I much prefer the hockey universe. I wish I could get my friends from the "everything else" universe into the "hockey" universe, becuase it's much more fun.

-For someone who claims to hate Valentine's Day, Darci sure went to a lot of trouble to bring Valentines to everyone. But hey, lollipops and homemade heart-shaped frosted cookies? Yeah, I'm not complaining.

-Of course, the frosting on my cookies stuck together, so the first cookie came apart. Thanks for breaking my heart (again), Darci!

Post-it Notes on the Plexiglass

2007-02-06T00:00:00.000-05:00

-Believe it or not, when attending sporting events, there are some things more important than wearing the right jersey, the right pants, the right underwear, eating the right pre-game meal, getting the right spot in line, bringing the right cards and signs, or any of those other things that we obsess over before each game: THE TICKETS. Oops.

-Billy Joel sang a pretty good anthem before the Super Bowl, but he ain't got nothing on the Reverend. Nothing.

-The Super Bowl itself loses some of its luster when sandwiched between UNH/Maine and the Beanpot. Really, though, not much would hold up between those two events.

-CSTV picked the wrong game to show.

-The first two rows of the student section were the most culturally diverse they have ever been. We had people from India, London, British Columbia, the US, and even Detroit!

-There's nothing quite like kicking a BC fan when they're down (to be fair, I wasn't the one doing the kicking, and he kinda brought it on himself).

-Holy crap, there really is someone with a bigger head than me!

-They say that every girl remembers her first period. Well, over the last few men's and women's games, our cowbell players have had memorable second periods.

-Yeah, that last joke was awful. I'm sorry.

-Thundersticks suck, unless your cowbell is loud enough to be heard over them. Fortunately, Smokey McHoser found us the adamantium bell, so we were able to exert our will over the bastardized balloons, and actually get some good noise going.

-I'm not good at driving RC cars.

-For once, I don't suck at Life!

-I'm still waiting to find my squirrel.

-Quadruple cowbells freakin' RULE!

-Not having to drive home rules even more!

-Beating Maine rules the most!

-Every once in a while, Darci will say or do something that makes my blood rush, my mind go fuzzy, and leaves me speechless. Over the course of the week in Florida, this happened once. Over the course of two Maine games, this happened at least three times.

-And not that it has anything to do with anything, but can we crank the heat in the Whitt for the next game? Maybe just an extra blower or two aimed right at the special row?

In other news, I am counting down the days to Valentine's Day: 84 hours (7 days) until I shut myself away from the internet for 24 hours. No AIM, no message boards, no e-mail. I'll answer my phone and text messages, but I will be avoiding all forms of internet communication. Basically, I'm going into hiding for the day (if I could, I'd stay home all day, too).

The Best of The Best of The Worst

2007-01-30T21:18:00.000-05:00

If you've read this blog at all, you've probably learned two things:
1) I ramble
2) I hate Valentine's Day, and everything associated with it.

The first is true. The second is only half true. Well, 99% true. I do hate Valentine's Day. I could go on and on about it, but I've already done the whole bitter/angry thing a few posts ago, so let's focus on that 1% of that stupidest of holidays that I actually like: Tiny Candy Conversation Hearts.

Yup, those little Necco-wafer-esque goodies with stupid phrases on them that everyone seems to hate. I love 'em. Not the chocolate, not...whatever the hell else is good about this season. Those tiny hearts. They're cheap and tasty, and they make me laugh, usually because I try to picture people using them as actual valentine's messages. Some of them, though, are just ridiculous. Working my way through a bag over the past few days, I pulled out some of my favorites. None match my all-time favorite, the result of a printing error of a heart that was supposed to say "You Rock" and came out as "You Fuck" causing thousands of bags to be pulled off the shelves and millions of hearts to be broken, crushed, and pulverized into dust (sounds familiar).

So here are some of the best of this year's batch (I'm sorry the pics aren't better - damn things are actually rather hard to photograph):

ILU - That's right. Three letters. I. L. U. Deep down inside, I'm sure they stand for I Love You, but "you" starts with a Y, not a U, so what could those letters stand for? According to dictionary.com, in Estonian, ilu means "beauty" or "flowery". So there you go. Eat Tiny Candy Conversation Hearts, learn Estonian. They truly are an educational candy.

And - Conjunctions. No conversation is complete without them, and, apparently, no bag of Tiny Candy Conversation Hearts is complete without them, either.

To - You know what they say: "Say it with prepositions!"

Dream - I'm not entirely sure what to make of this one. Is it a command? A suggestion? Does it mean "in your dreams"? If you give this heart to someone, are you telling them you dream about them, or that you want them to dream about you, or that you believe that we are all just asleep, but are living in the same dream world that created by and implanted in our minds by an evil race of aliens who conquered Earth 500 years ago and are shipping us all back to their home world to use as slave labor/food? You just don't know!

For You - No shit? This is for me? You're giving me a Tiny Candy Conversation Heart, and it's for me? Wow, thanks! I wouldn't have known had it not been written on the heart.

New Love - I like to think of this one as the "break up" Tiny Candy Conversation Heart. You're in a relationship, but it's not going anywhere. You meet someone new, and want to break it off with the existing gf/bf, but how? Leave a "New Love" Tiny Candy Conversation Heart on the counter, pack up your stuff, and start your new life! Cake!

Top Dog - Tiny Candy Conversation Hearts for pets? Pets can't read though, so they wouldn't do that...

My Pet - ...Or would they?

E-Mail - Um, yeah. You have e-mail? That's great. I do too. Is this going somewhere? This Tiny Candy Conversation Heart is an improvment over the previous version, "Mail", which people always thought was a misprinting of the word "Male", which really didn't make much more sense. Guys really shouldn't need to use Tiny Candy Conversation Hearts to let people know they're guys. Although, it was the 80's.

Fax Me - Make sure you use the proper cover letter, and fill out all information clearly, otherwise your fax may be directed to the wrong department, or discarded immediately as inappropriate material.

Nice Girl - Nothing says, "I like you and would like you to be my valentine" better than treating her like a 5-year-old (no Keith Johnson jokes, please).

I'm Sure - It's kind of sad that not even Tiny Candy Conversation Hearts are immune to corporate licensing. It is for a deodorant, though, which benefits all of humanity. Although, if you have to tell the person you're interested in that you are now using deodorant, you probably have problems that can't be solved by Tiny Candy Conversation Hearts, even as awesome as they are.

How Nice - This may sound like another condescending Tiny Candy Conversation Heart, but it's a little-known fact that the word nice also means precisely accurate. So, this Tiny Candy Conversation Heart actually means "How precisely accurate". I'm not exactly sure what context you'd use it, but there you go.

Home Soon - When you've been out all night drinking and hitting on cheap waitresses, let your wife know that you'll be stumbling in the house shortly by sending her this Tiny Candy Conversation Heart. I hear they're also working on "Won't Hit U" and "Last Time I Prms" Tiny Candy Conversation Hearts.

Be Good - Thank you, mother. Y'know, if I was a girl, and some guy gave me this Tiny Candy Conversation Heart, I think I would knee him in the groin, take his wallet and house keys, give the keys and his address to a couple of crack whores so they can invade and plunder his house, then I'd buy a bunch of disturbing porn and have it delivered to his mother's house. I figure that's pretty much the polar opposite of being "good".

UR Kind - The passion! The drama! Wait...what the hell does UR mean? I initially thought this was U R Kind, the stupid, cutesy way of writing You Are Kind, but there's no space. It's definitely UR. According to dictionary.com, Ur was an ancient city in Mesopotamia, one of the oldest, in fact. So, calling someone "Ur Kind" may be a way of saying that they're really really really really really old. Romantic.

Call Home - Yeah, mom is having some trouble with that new printer she bought, and is wondering if you could help her. Oh, and she wants to know if you're free for dinner next Thursday night. I don't know what time, you'll have to talk to her. Look, I don't know any of the details, just call her and talk to her about it, ok? Geez.

Love Me - This one was actually revised at the last minute. Originally, it said "Stalk Me".

Love Life - This one is interesting, as it could mean that you love life, or it could be about your love life. I'm going to go with the second one, so that I can actually say I have a love life again.

Go Home - You're drunk, not making sense, and have hit on the same girl 14 times already tonight each time getting closer and closer to getting the tar beaten out of you by the posse her friends have rounded up. She likes you (as a friend) though, and knows that you wouldn't be acting like this had you not been fairly bitter at the fact that you've been rejected by every girl at this party twice already and had too much too drink. So, the 15th time you ask her out, slurring something about her clothes and your floor and a lava lamp, she gives you this Tiny Candy Conversation Heart. We've all been there.

Get Real - I think this is my favorite of this year's batch. It's such the anti-Tiny Candy Conversation Heart. Most of the Tiny Candy Conversation Hearts are sweet phrases professing love or friendship. The "Get Real" Tiny Candy Conversation Heart is just total, flat-out rejection. It's probably the most realistic Tiny Candy Conversation Heart. And it's just awesome.

The Hosers' First Groupie!

2007-01-29T12:41:00.000-05:00

What would you call a young woman who attends Brown and drives two hours north to watch UNH play Providence in women's hockey, just so she can chat with, heckle, and be heckled by our small group of fans?

The word stalker comes to mind, but let's go with groupie. We could also call her O'Hara, since that's her name. Her first name. Seriously. Her parents named her "O'Hara". I'm pretty sure they hated her.

At any rate, she harassed the boys who went down to Providence on Saturday afternoon for not cheering enough, then decided to come up and experience the full effect, and basically trade insults with Rob. I think we gave her a good show. Except for the idiot who screwed up the cowbell at the start of the second period. That was just terrible. He should be ashamed.

At any rate, our next game against Brown should be fun.

Rob and O'Hara...A match made in Providence. (Get it?)

Well, that was different...

2007-01-23T12:52:00.000-05:00

Ok, no more of that (hopefully). GentleArt should return to its own style of verbose humor and randomness soon.

All in all, though if you take the writing for what it is, I think there is some good stuff in that last post. If the tone bothers you, just pretend that it is a fictitious piece, a character study, a story about some other person, not about me. Or you could skip it altogether, as it is pretty long and wordy (although, that makes me wonder why you're reading this blog to begin with, but eh, whatever).

I did edit one line, as I realized I was being very unfair to some people in my past, marginalizing them, and that's just not cool.

Carry on, dear readers. The snow is falling, and it will be time for hockey again soon.

Oh, and I hope people enjoy the update to the look. I was a little bored with the white-on-black look, so I went with the parchment-esque style. I kinda like it.

"Where do you see yourself in 5 years?"

2007-01-22T10:04:00.000-05:00

It's the prototypical interview question. Supposedly, the interviewer is trying to gauge your motivation, your drive, your desire to see yourself successful, or, at the very least, to gauge your self-esteem and confidence, to see where you rank yourself in the world. I've been asked this question various times, in various settings, including the documentary film a classmate made of our Senior class in high school. Shockingly, I'm sure, I have always struggled with the answer.

Not anymore.

Ok, in the workplace setting, yeah, I'll still struggle to come up with the right answer. Honestly, I'll struggle to come up wiht any answer at all. Anyone who knows me knows that I don't brag about myself all that often (quite the opposite, usually), especially not to complete strangers who would be my superiors, both in status, and probably performance. So yeah, predicting where I'd be in five years generally amounts to, "well, where am I now?"

However, in general, I can finally answer this ubiquitous question.

"Where do you see yourself in 5 years?" the documentary film director asks.
Matt looks into the camera and says firmly, "Single."

I've discovered this recently - my romantic life has a distinct pattern. Some may recognize it. You have probably seen it at some point in your own life. However, there is the key difference - while you may have seen it in your own life, it was just "at some point". This, with only a couple of exceptions, is my ENTIRE life.

1. Meet girl

At this point, I've met a girl. She's probably a friend of a friend, or a classmate/coworker. We chat, she's friendly. Often, it ends there, and we're friends. And that's great, but that's not what this is about. This is about girls that I'm actually interested in, so let's move on.

2. Become attracted to girl, if not already.

It's happened a few times were I meet someone, and yeah, they're pretty, or whatever, but I don't know anything about them. Sometimes, when I get to know them, I find that while they are attracive, I just don't like them. Other times, I get to know the girl, and I find that I really like her. I start to think, "I'd like to spend more time with her. Get to know her better. Maybe be 'more than friends'," because this girl is a lot of fun to hang out with, and just being around her makes me feel better about myself. That brings us to number 3 in this vicious cycle.

3. Realize that girl and I have become rather good friends.

We hang out, talk, enjoy similar activities, but it's not quite dating, is it? Even if we do these things with just each other, we're still locked in that "friend zone" like lab rats trapped in a maze, looking for the cheese. Only, the maze is just a rectangular room with no doors or exits, and no cheese to be found. Of course, she's not looking for the cheese. She'll find cheese somewhere else. I'm the one wearing down my claws and my teeth trying to get out, to find something more. God, this metaphor is terrible. Let's move on to step 4, where the ground falls out completely, where the scientist tosses rat-me into the snake pit to be swallowed whole by some hungry viper.

4. Watch as she dates other guys.

You know it's coming. You know you're just friends and that sooner or later, she's going to tell you that she went out on a date with this guy the other night. And you know that right at that moment, pretty much all hope of ever getting out of the friend zone (or, even more pathetically, that you weren't really in the friend zone at all) is lost. You see it coming on the horizon, and you think you can brace yourself, but it's like being on a plummeting elevator. You know the cable has snapped and the brakes have failed. Your blood runs cold. Any second now, the elevator will crash into the basement, pulverizing anything on the inside, and there's nothing you can do about it. You think about jumping at the last second, as in the urban myths, but that doesn't actually do anything. Lay down? Climb the walls? Hang off the ceiling? Nothing is going to save you. Just deal with the hollow feeling of freefall, wait for the impact, and realize two things: 1) that it was your choice to get on this elevator, and 2) if you live through this, you'll just end up getting on another elevator, and risk the same thing happening.

Off the elevator and back to real life. I sit there, and meet her new boy, hang out with them, watch as they laugh and have fun and are romantic and all that crap, while I go home to my empty apartment (formerly: dorm room/mom's basement), and think about how I'm going to be single for the rest of my life, which would be ok because I never want to feel like this again, and knowing that all of this is going to happen all over again at some point in the future, and I'm out of breath because this was all one long run-on sentence. Let's look at step 5.

5. Say The Words

Then I say the words that I've said time and time again, "Well, at least we can still be friends". And this is great and good and fucking wonderful because hey, you don't need a romantic relationship. Who does? Who needs intimacy, a soulmate, someone special to spend the special moments in life, someone to share feelings and grief, to comfort and be comforted by, a companion? Hell, relationships get messy and complicated, and if they go bad, they can ruin friendships outside of the relationship, and you end up losing a good friend because you decided to take a chance and see if there was something more between the two of you. It's better to just be friends. Hang out when you can, go your seperate ways at the end of the night, no attachements, no possibility of weirdness between the two of you, or your mutual friends (and yes, I talk to myself in the second person).

And eventually, after saying this enough times, it really starts to piss me off, because I realize that I've been saying it over and over and over again for the past 13 years. Saying it about nearly every girl I've ever been attracted to or had feelings for. It's like my mantra, my sacred holy words. I get up every Sunday morning, put on my robe, raise my hands in front of my computer (I figure that's my congregation), and recite The Words. The congregation stares back at me silently, and I want to pick up the moniter and throw it across the room, because I am sick of all of this shit. I want to tear down the walls of this apartment, I want to break every mirror I can find, I want to dump the fragments of everything in my life that has never worked out into the street, dump gasoline on it, light a match and watch the flames rise to touch the sky and rid my past of all those failed dreams. I want to peel my skin off, discard this husk and reveal the real me, the one that is hiding under the surface, the one that is me, yet is not me. Is something else. Something better. Something good.

And I want to yell. I want to scream this all at the top of my lungs. I want to be on a stage somewhere belting out some song that gets all of this out of my head, out of my body, and I want people to hear it, because no one ever does. I keep this all inside. All of my feelings, my thoughts, that other person that I want to be. I keep them bottled up, showing them to a very few people, and rarely the people I should be showing them to, and even then it all just gets misinterpreted, and laughed off.

This will have to do. This blog is my sounding board. The only place I really make my voice heard. And to how many people? 3? 4? Nothing ever changes. The cycle goes on and on, the steps are followed, and I sit alone in my silence.

At least this has gotten me writing again.

(Edited to add: I just wanted to say to anyone reading this, whatever you may think of what I have written, know that these are some of my innermost feelings, things I would never say out loud, and now they are printed here for anyone who can find this blog to read. I'm not sure I can express how difficult it was to hit the "publish" button and expose all of this, but I didn't feel like I could keep any of this inside any longer. Please keep that in mind.)

I'd like to get home sometime this year!

2007-01-07T23:29:00.000-05:00

"Laugher, laughter,
All I hear and see is laughter!" -Metallica

Ok, I'm not sure how you "see laughter", but that's how the song goes, and it's fitting, so...yeah. Your mom.

Day 5: [A/Cs] fucking rule!
Ok, so the first thing to say about the morning we checked out of the hotel is that you shouldn't believe everything you see/hear on TV. Oh well, I got to drive the Tuscon, and enjoy the A/C, so I was ok. Yeah, I'm selfish. What are you going to do about it? Yeah, that's what I thought!

I'm sorry, that was mean of me. Please keep reading. Nice readers.

Anyway, the hosers meet up in the late morning, with just 5 hours until hockey. Geez, if only this game were at home! Unfortunately, we're 1,600 miles from home. And in a tropical climate. We need to find something to do that won't make us sweat too much. We find a cheap pizza buffet for lunch, but that doesn't take up nearly enough time. So, we head to the rink anyway. The cars get split up, as some of the guys decide to go to a sports bar and drink a bit. We go straight to the rink, as we have Darci, and more importantly, she has the Phase 10 cards.

We head up to the room where the Alumni gathering had been the night before, and kill some time by playing Phase 10. Why do I bring this up? Because for the first time ever, I BEAT PHASE 10!!

V
I
C
T
O
R
Y

L
A
P!!

Yeah, I ran around the room like a nutcase. Erinn took a picture of me in a triumphant pose that I could post here, but it's a picture of me. I'll spare everyone (mostly myself) the pain of seeing that.

On to the game! After a brief stop to chat with the parents of a 14-year-old from Mississippi playing in the youth tourney going on in the same building about the merits of UNH (yeah, um, UNH - can you just put me on the payroll as some sort of recruiter? I really wouldn't mind getting paid to go to away games...), it was time for more hockey. The sound guy still loved us, as did the UNH fans (and the Cornell fans who came to sit with us). We were begged to return to the seats we'd had the previous night by the daughter of UNH's associate AD (and we ended up sitting next to the AAD who loved us before the Florida trip). We were spotlighted again (and Nick was made fun of by the sound guy), and people took pictures of us again, and congratulated us at the end of UNH's 5-2 pounding of WMU (WMU's 2 goals were against Kirk Manke - more on that later), but the highlight of the night had to be when the interim president of UNH came up to us because she wanted to introduce herself to us!

Yeah, I am so not an anonymous face/voice in the crowd anymore. I'm not sure how I feel about that. Maybe it could get us some groupies.

Though I'm not sure "Bell Bunnies" are any better than "Puck Bunnies". And I don't think Darci needs more strange guys hitting on her (christ, she probably gets enough of that from me).

Anyway, as noted, UNH won, and it was time for the hosers to take to the open road and try to get home as fast as humanly possible, because we were sick of warm weather and just hanging around on vacation. Well, actually, it was more the fact that, as nice as all of that is, with no more hockey to look forward to, sleeping in our own beds was much more appealing.

We leave Estero at 7:30pm.

Now things get interesting. Not that things weren't interesting already, but from here things get...well, I'm not sure what the best word to describe it would be. Erinn took the first driving shift, I took shotgun. I don't remember much of what was said, I just remember the laughter. I don't think anything we said was all that funny, though I still chuckle at imagining that the groups in each car were a family, and picturing Kirk Manke trying to use his playing time and 2 saves as a way to get action from puck bunnies still makes me giggle (can't you just picture him at some party, trying to act all cool, saying to come chick, "Yeah, y'know, I play for the team. Got some action down in Florida, made a couple of saves," and then Regan totally cock-blocking him by saying, "Yeah, TWO. On FOUR shots" and then walking out of the party with whatever girl he picked up AND the chick Manke was working on?).

There was also the spotlights from Disney...I mean Ford dealership. Then seeing Disney...or, well, Disney's Mickey-Mouse-shaped power line stantion.

And the "stuffed animal monster" (hoser logic at a young age).

The discussion of hoser logic.

The roads in Georgia that sound like a helicopter gearing up to take off. thp-thp-thp-thp-thp-thp-thp-thp...

Erinn trying to eat cherry pie while driving was pretty good, too. Especially when the pie decided to make a break for freedom while she was taking a bit. There wasn't much I could do to help, but she managed to get everything straightened out without spilling any. Erinn is pretty good with her mouth.

Um, moving right along...

Then, around 1:00 am, the text messages started coming in. JMH (a Cornell fan we're friends with) decided to try to make fun of us for driving, and to make comments about...well, let's just leave it at making fun of us. This goes on until they leave the bar they were at, around 2:00 am.

Day 6: Erinn and I burned a lot of calories in the car
Around 3am, we stop for gas, and let Jay drive, with Mike riding shotgun. Erinn and I move to the backseat and decide to get some sleep. And by "sleep", we of course meant, "laugh some more at ridiculous comments that make everyone else look at us like we're insane...or drunk...or both". For some reason that I can't remember (I think it came from our discsussion about Mike and Jay - who we'd formerly pretended were our kids being entertained by a portable DVD player - as our "non-traditional" parents who hated us (their kids), and you'd think they of all people would be more tolerant of people's differences), I'm going to hell, Erinn will be my roommate, and we will sleep in bunkbeds. Made of molten lava.

And I'm evil. Just because I'd actually make my kids believe there really was a "stuffed animal monster" (a monster that eats stuffed animals that fall off the bed; not a stuffed animal that is a monster...though, that could be funny, too) living under their bed.

I think "evil" was a bit strong.

Erinn learns that burying herself under a blanket works well for going over bridges, but probably wouldn't be the best bet while driving.

Finally, around 3:30am, we fall asleep. Laughing.

The rest of the trip is pretty normal. I take over driving in the morning, and discover that the best way to get through the mid-Atlantic states is to pass the lead car and drive as fast as you can. And the best way to get through Jersey is to sleep (though, this is not recommended if you are driving).

More text messages about inappropriate topics and hysterical laughter (gotta wonder how many calories we burned) about the previous night's nonsensical ramblings help, too.

In any event, the cars split company in Jersey, one heading to CT, one to RI, in the hopes of making the return as short as possible. We pull in to Nick and Erinn's place around 5pm, I drop Mike off around 7, and am home by 7:30, almost exactly 24 hours after we had started driving on Saturday. I bring my stuff inside, and immediately take a long, hot shower, then sit down at my computer.

It's New Year's Eve, but I don't really care. I could probably find someone to hang out with, but passing out on the couch is the most likely end result of the evening. I find some food, and start uploading some of my photos. I am struck by the fact that I am home, and that while for the last 24 hours I was preoccupied with getting back here, to my own couch, and my own shower, and my own bed (as well as cold air and no humidity), this is really not where I want to be right now. Hell, even before we left for Florida, all I wanted to do was be at home. I didn't want to drive to Florida. I didn't care about 80-degree weather, or swimming in December, or even seeing Darci in a bathing suit (honestly, I've seen it before, I'll probably see it again - whatever else I may think about it, it's not really a reason to drive 30 hours). I was excited for a week of vacation, but I would have liked to been able to keep some vacation days for after the hockey season is over. I was excited to hang out with people for a week. And, I was naturally excited to see some hockey after the 3 week break in action. Florida, though? And driving? Even trying to figure out a plan for the trip was irritating to me, and left me feeling like it was going to be a disaster.

In the end, though, I had a lot more fun than I had expected, and wound up very glad I went. A lot of people told me that driving straight through to Florida is one of those things that you should do at least once in your life. I'm not so sure that it has to be this drive specifically, but I do believe that a long road trip with friends is something that everyone should do, especially when you're young and unencumbered. These are the moments that we'll look back on someday as the great adventures we took. These are the stories we'll tell over and over again, each time smiling at the fact that we were there, that we took the chance, that we braved the seemingly endless hours of driving, that we ventured into a relatively unknown region of the country, that we were devoted enough to this hockey team to do all of this just to watch them play a couple of relatively meaningless non-conference games.

And so, as I sit in my living room and try to get caught up on what I've missed in the last week, and I'm struck by how lonely my apartment feels, and I realize that I'd rather be on the road. I realize that as much as I didn't want to even go on this trip, it was a great experience, and a lot of fun (and I realize that I shouldn't be surprised, since I never seem to have a bad time when Darci's around).

I throw "Fight Club" into the DVD player, and lie down on the couch. I'm asleep before Marla shows up on screen.

The epic road trip (and the road trip epic) is over.

We now return to our regularly-scheduled trip recap

2007-01-04T23:36:00.000-05:00

A few days left before we leave for Florida, Darci and I were talking about the trip.

"Are you excited?" she asks.
"Well," I say. "I'm excited about the hockey. Everything else? Not so much."
"What, you're not excited to spend a week with us?"
"It's more the drive. Espeially the return trip. That's going to suck."

Day 3: the most fun I've ever had sleeping alone
Now, our 30-hour trip down to Ft Meyers Beach is finished, and I'm left wondering how bad the return trip is going to be. Oh well, there's a lot to do and see before that happens. I'll try to just give quick recaps of everything (I can get a little long-winded at times - shocking, I know).

First off, I feel a little gypped that I don't get to see the sun actually rise over Florida. I'm crammed next to the window waiting and waiting, and it comes up off to my right, behind a building. Stupid sun. See if I ever donate to the "buy the sun a new pair of stereo headphones" fund again. Did I mention I didn't sleep much?

Oh well. Trying not to wake anyone up, I head into the other room, and wake people up. I really had little choice. It was either that or snag the room key and wander around Ft Meyers Beach in my pajamas. I don't think I'm old enough to get away with that, yet.

The weather is warm. 80+ degrees, but there is very little humidity. I sit on the porch and do some work while the rest of the crew either sleeps or goes to pick up Jay from the airport. I have a drink. Some food. My laptop. It's nice. It's way too nice. Holy crap, I think I'm starting to like it down here. That can't be a good thing. Fortunately, before I ca dwell on this too long, the hosers return, and we discuss our plans for the rest of the day. Two words: dolphin hunt.

Ok, not really. More like a dolphin cruise. Which was more like a harbour cruise. Because, well, it was a harbour cruise. I think Nick had been misled by the company's logo: a dolphin jumping through the water. There were definitely no dolphins on this cruise. There were candy canes on top of the boat, though. It was nice to get out into the water, and see some of the sites. You know you're in a touristy area when all of the major landmarks are hotels. And you know you're in a screwed up part of the country when a tiny-ass empty piece of land with a lemon tree sells for $975,000.

Hey look, a manatee mailbox. I understand these mailboxes are fairly common, but look at the thing. Floridians love manatees. We thought it was a hippo at first. And yet, people find these large, cow-like creatures attractive. Maybe there is hope for me after all.

Years removed from working in the food-service industry, and I'm still rather adept at handling raw chicken. I've come to find that there is some karmic/murphy's law that the person responsible for removing the bones from the chicken is the most likely to be the only person to get a bone in his chicken.

And mini-golf rules. Seriously. Is there anything that is as much fun to do in a group, outside, on a cool summer night. Ok, probably quite a few things, but that doesn't change the fact that I always have and always will love mini golf. We split up into teams based on the car we were in, and I learn the lesson that it is good to chose car-mates based on level of coordination and sobriety, as we kick some ass on the 18.5 holes at the Smuggler's Cove (hi baby gators!). I could have had a couple of holes-in-one, but why ruin my run of all 2's and 3's? Seriously, I am the Ellis Burks of mini golf - consistantly solid, but never spectacular.

Now, the sleeping situation. With another member of the hosers in our hotel suite, sweet sleeping spaces are hard to come by. What to do, what to do? Well, let's take an inventory, and see what we've got:

Couch cushions from the pull-out sofa.
A pillow.
A blanket.
A fleece jacket.
A screened in patio.
An idea.

Couch cushions on the porch. Fleece folded and used as a base pillow. And I have my own bed, outside. I lay my head down and look out at the stars in the night sky. It's been a long time since I've looked at the stars while trying to get to sleep. And it's been even longer since the last time I fell asleep listening to the sound of waves.

It's nearly as comfortable as sleeping on a couch would be, and oh so peaceful. Fortunately, the weather should be pretty constant while I'm out there (just another reminder we're not in New England), and though it's not exactly warm Thursday night, I like the cold, and it leads to this little exchange that isn 't quite quotebook-worthy, but is pretty memorable to me:
"Didn't you get cold?" Darci asks, seeing that I only had one blanket.
"Nope. In fact, I was sweating." I say.
"Wow," Darci says. "You belong in Canada!"

Sleeping out there Friday night would prove a little more difficult, with the humid weather, no breeze, and naked people doing God-knows-what in the hot tub below our room. Of course, "a little more difficult" means it took me ten minutes to fall into a coma-like sleep instead of five. Once again, a lot of the terms I use are relative.

Day 4: Hockey? I think we get hockey today! We do! Yay!
One of these days, I'm going to actually beat Darci at cribbage. Lost by 1 point (essentially). 0-4.

Did you know that a Florida mile is about twice as long as a New England mile? Sounds crazy, but if it's not true than may the UNH men's hockey team win the National Championship this year (hey, it's worth a shot). What is true is that Florida has the stupidest traffic patterns in this half of the country. And, for some reason thinks that closing wildlife refuges on Fridays is a good idea. So we walk. And it's actually quite nice. Weather's in the mid-80's, it's humid, and we're walking in the direct midday sun, but it's nice out here. Surrounded by nature (mostly Ibises) and peaceful, the small dirt path is one of the few non-touristy areas you can find in Florida. And, there's gators!

Ok, I've seen Alligators before. Last time I was in Florida we went on a swamp boat tour, and saw gators lounging in the swamps. And we all saw the baby alligators at the miniature golf course. However, seeing a gator from a boat, or seeing a handful of baby gators from behind a railing is far different than turning the corner on a path and seeing a full-grown alligator 8 feet away from with nothing between you but dirt and grass.

If you look really close, you can see that his eye is open. He's watching us take his picture. I don't know much about alligators, and though I've spent a good deal of time in the wilderness, I've not had much experience with predators. I'm pretty confident that this gator is sleepily sunning himself, trying to warm up, but I can't quite shake the feeling that well, this animal could kill us. Or, at the very least, could severly hurt us. He barely moves though, and we don't get any closer than we need to for pictures (God bless zoom lenses).

So, let's see...dolphins? Check. Alligators? Check. Swimming in the Gulf of Mexico? Check. Mini golf? Check. Sonic fast food? Check. What else do we need?

HOCKEY!

The first game starts out one-sided, then gets close, but the comeback bid falls a bit short, and Darci beats Mike...wait, air hockey? That's not what we drove 30 hours to see!

Doors open, and we head into the rink. First game is Maine vs Western Michigan, and for the first time, we are all Broncos fans. It doesn't help though, and they end up falling to Maine. Oh well. More importantly, the entire arena now knows where all the cheering will come from this weekend.

We head to the alumni gathering. This really isn't anything special, except for the fact that while I am one of the oldest hosers, I was probably the youngest alum at the function. Ok, back to hockey.

First UNH action since early December. I can't wait. It's been so long, I've nearly forgotten what hockey looks like. UNH did too, apparently, as they play a messy game and fall to Cornell (although our fans outcheered theirs - even with their horns mic'd, and my cowbell not - and beat them in the intermission games). There were a couple of silver linings to be taken from this game. The first is that UNH's experimental "swift" jerseys didn't look as bad as Maine's. Of course, Maine's were in that awful pussy blue. And I ask you: is there anything worse than pussy blue? Short answer: no. (Long answer: no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no.)

The other is that we get to leave three hours earlier than if UNH had made the "championship" game.

Back to the hotel to turn in for the night. Day 5 is looming in front of us. Our final day on the island. Escape is imminent, but do we really want to leave?

Stay tuned to find out!

We interrupt this blog for a special bulletin...

2007-01-04T10:03:00.000-05:00

This blog has mostly been concerned with humor, mixed in with a little anger (generally in the pursuit of humor). Today, we get a little serious, as we mourn the passing of Nick's grandfather. My words wouldn't do the man justice, but Nick's and Erinn's do. Please visit their blogs and read about the loss of one of the generation of heroes.

http://pinkhathater.blogspot.com/
http://unhwildfan.blogspot.com/

Gentle Art is back...and that's not all!

2007-01-03T15:09:00.000-05:00

Well, ok, that is all. Gentle Art is back though, well-rested and still exhausted, and ready to burst forth into the new year and wish that we could go back a couple of years. The blog has been on vacation for the past couple of weeks, what with Christmas and New Year's, and that week-long road trip to Florida, and all. What's that? Florida? That's right. While all of my New England brethren were suffering thtough yet another typically unpredictable New England winter, some friends and I traded the mild-to-frigid dry northeast air that I love so much for the warm-to-hot moist southeast air that I can do without. Boy, do I sound excited? Probably not. There was a good reason for that.

Let's start at the set up. This all began last year, believe it or not, in the rather ludicrous setting of Providence College's Schneider Arena, surrounded by 6-year-old PC fans who were decidedly un-PC, though they wouldn't have understood most of what I just said. One of our inside sources had informed Darci that UNH would be playing in the Everblades Classic in Southern Florida the next season, and as Darci is a warm-weather kinda girl, she was intrigued by the prospect of a road trip to the sunny state of oranges to watch hockey, though it was a calm, understated type of intrigue.

"Did you hear?" she said as I sat down in the rink. "We're going to Florida next year! You're coming, right?"

Ok, so "calm" and "understated" are relative terms.

Eventually, after much prodding from Darci and Erinn, I acquiesce, and agree to go (hey, I can't say no to girls - who knew?). Now the big question was how to get there and where to stay once we got there. There's 6-8 of us going. To Florida. This is a little bigger scale than driving to Albany with a couple of people and sleeping in the car at the regionals. Mike had a line on a free place to stay, so we just had to figure out travel.

Flying was easiest, but the most expensive. Driving was the cheapest, but it's Florida. Driving 24-30 hours to Southern Florida is one of those things that ranks pretty low on my "things to do before my lifetime membership in the Society of People Who Don't Want to Drive Twenty-Four-to-Thirty Hours to Southern Florida (SPWDWDTFtTHSF for short) expires" list. I'd rather fly. Let's fly. Wait, I'm poor. So, driving?

Ideas are tossed about. Rent a car, borrow a car, rent a van, fly...eventually, we settle on taking two cars down, and loading up two gas cards, 1 for each car. Everyone chips in 100 bucks, and we're good to go.

Ok, now that everything is set up, let's get to the actual trip (I figure Nick or Erinn can tell the tales of the flying shoes in their blogs, should they so desire).

Day 1: the trip down
7:30 am - 3:30 pm: trip progesses smoothly to this point. Everyone is on time, and in good spirits. What happens at 3:30? The entire states of New Jersey and Delaware decide to say, "fuck you, we all want to go home, and apparently, we all live in Maryland". The details aren't important. Three things are important to note, though:
1. When following someone, especially through heavy traffic, you MUST drive aggressively.
2. When driving aggressively to follow someone through heavy traffic, some toes may get stepped on. And by "toes" and "stepped on", I mean "other drivers" and "might get cut-off/nearly clipped/nearly side-swiped".
3. I said "nearly".

Fortunately, before our "near-hit" totals could climb into the double digits, the traffic cleared up and it was smooth sailing through Maryland and on into the south. A quick check of the GPS, and only...about 90 hours of driving left. Or 18, or something. I'm not really sure.

Another note of import: fmaily-made meatball sandwiches (my mother supplied the recipe, I mixed, sis and I formed, ma cooked) are better than any rest area fast food anywhere. Keep that in mind.

Day 2: the trip down
What? Day 1 was "the trip down"! Ergh. I am sick of being in the car. I want to drive all night, but that's not going to happen, and I relinquish the steering wheel, and try to sleep. Eventually, it's morning, and we're almost there. Almost! It's right there! Look, you can see it! Orange groves, and old people, and alligators driving those swamp boats they used at the end of Police Academy 5: Assignment, Miami Beach. Or maybe I'm just hallucinating. That's probably not good. Eh fuck it, I'm driving.

The strange thing about Florida is that it doesn't look all that big on a map, but this is some sort of optical illusion, as the actual state is about three times as long as the entire eastern seaboard. After about three days of driving the sun-soaked highway, we're still 20+ miles away from our destination. Finally, we reach Ft Meyers, Florida. Ft. Meyers Beach is just on the other side of this city...which is about the size of Rhode Island.

Getting closer.

Getting closer.

Getting -- hey look, another car with Rhode Island plates right in front of us! What are the odds? Oh wait, I'm supposed to be following them! Right. Heh.

Hey, the brakes work!

Finally, the beach! The hotel! Er, we're turning around? Oh, the hotel!

The room is smaller than we all thought, though it has a nice porch (*cough*foreshadowing*cough*), and is overlooking the Gulf of Mexico, which is looking rather inviting. We unpack and decide to go for a swim.

Have I mentioned that I'm on vacation time, and as such am getting paid for this? That's right. I got paid to sit in Jersey traffic. Got paid to eat breakfast in the car. And now, I'm getting paid to see Darci in a bikini. Yeah, life is good! (To be perfectly honest, I'm just as happy to be getting paid to see Darci in jeans and her fleece, but that's beside the point.)

Ok, so Darci's cuteness aside, we head down to the beach. The Gulf! My first time in a large body of water that isn't the Atlantic. It's going to be warm, right? We're all ready for it to be warm. It's Florida. It's the Gulf. It's going to be warm.

Now, when you swim in the Atlantic a lot, you learn about what I call that "coma-shock" or "coma-effect", which is what happens when you jump into water that is way too cold for humans to be in - the cold hits your chest, and you suddenly can't breathe, as your body freaks out and tries to put you into a coma. You know the water is warm for the Atlantic if that doesn't happen. The Gulf of Mexico at the end of December is warm for the Atlantic.

Whatever. We're tough, so we wade halfway to Texas, where the water finally gets deep enough, and swim for a bit. It's nice to just float around, ride the occasional tiny wave, and just play in the water just two days after Christmas. And, we're the only people in the water without wetsuits on. I don't know how everyone knew we were from the North.

After swimming we clean up, head to the market for food, then back to the room for pasta by Darci, some TV, and some much-needed sleep.

Up next: You can't always get what you want, but if you try real hard you just might find that you can't really get what you need, either.

2006-12-24T14:26:00.000-05:00

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!
May you all get everything you want/need this year. :)

My next post

2006-12-11T08:02:00.000-05:00

Today, my name is Matt Pedone, and I like cheese.

(this post written by Aaron Nickulas)

A 'thank you'.

2006-12-03T23:00:00.000-05:00

Hopefully this will be a little more entertaining than my last post on the nature of Valentine's Day and Christmas...yeah, like that'll be tough...

Anyway, this post is a thank you to a site that has given me much help lately. As I type these posts, I like to make sure that my information is as accurate as possible (or at least sounds that way). As such, I make use of a number of websites to do research. One site, however, as emerged as my go-to site for research: wikipedia.org. It is a great site, bursting with information both useful and banal (sometimes at the same time). I have learned a lot visiting that site over the past few years.

For example, without wikipedia, I would never have known:

- A common storage box has the shape of a cuboid.

- Famous boxes include the mythical "Pandora's Box", and...that's about it.

- There is a vast difference between an empty cardboard box and an elaborate wooden box.

- Kirsten Dunst's most recent movie, Marie Antoinette, should actually have been titled "Maria Antonia Josefa Johanna von Habsburg-Lothringen". It probably wouldn't have done as well at the box office though.

- Marie Antoinette never actually said, "If they have no bread, then let them eat cake." What she actually said was more likey, "It is quite certain that in seeing the people who treat us so well despite their own misfortune, we are more obliged than ever to work hard for their happiness. The king seems to understand this truth; as for myself, I know that in my whole life (even if I live for a hundred years) I shall never forget the day of the coronation." By which, I believe she meant, "If they have no bread, I shall make them cake to eat!" Unfortunately, she was not a good cook, and the cakes tasted terrible. She was beheaded.

- I may have made up that last part about the cakes. She was beheaded though. That much is true.

- Highway 202 is a short east-west highway in north-central Arkansas.

- Ludo Bagman is...making...out...with...Harry Potter.

- Ellipses make anything possible.

- Julian Polzin is a native of Victoria, British Columbia.

- South Korean soccer player Paju Bumwoo has a funny name.

- Brazil has the unique tradition of calling their soccer players by a single name, giving the players an air of mystery and almost an elite status before they even step on the field. The single name is dramatic and intriguing. This is exemplified by Brazilian soccer player Fred.

- The Catholic Church actually recognizes 11 different Saint Valentine's Days. So, if your girlfriend/wife is pissed that you didn't buy her flowers on February 14th, take her out to a nice, romantic dinner on May 2nd.

- People seem to be getting the idea that the term Frost Belt is incredibly accurate, as is Sun Belt.

- Some people have way too much time on their hands.

- The Grand Old Duke of York had quite a bit less than 10,000 men, most likely having only about 8,000 men. He did, however, march them up a hill and then back down, where he and about half his men died.

- Mali Airways is an airline based in Mali.

- Some mayors hope to have airports named for them, others hope for gorillas to be named after them. William B. Hartsfield got both!

- The movie The Naked Jungle is nowhere as cool as the name sounds.

- There are only 6 caves in South Africa.

- The smallest state with the longest official name, the full name of Rhode Island is actually The State of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations.

- The island referred to in the name of the state is an actual island in Narraganesett Bay, called Aquidneck Island by the native americans. Some think later settlers actually got confused and mistakenly started calling Block Island "Rhode Island". So, the official name could actually be even longer: "The State of Rhode, Aquidneck, or Perhaps Even Block Island and Providence Plantations".

- The state of Rhode/Aquidneck/Block Island was apparently settled by Massachusetts rejects. Roger Williams was booted from Mass, settled in Rhode/Aquidneck/Block Island, and founded Providence. People attempted to move into Providence had to sign the following statement: “We, whose names are hereunder written, being desirous to inhabit the town of Providence, do promise to submit ourselves, in active or passive obedience, to all such orders or agreements as shall be made for public good by the body in an orderly way by the major consent of the inhabitance, masters of families, incorporated together into a township, and such others as they shall admit into the same only in civil things.” Sounds like the perfect place for the Foxy Lady.

- The "Masschusetts rejects" comment seems harsh, and even moreso when you realize that the people booted from Mass were done so for disagreeing with the Puritans. Not exactly a bad thing, right there - I gotta imagine they wanted out.

There are literally thousands of other tidbits of information that I've learned from browsing wikipedia - this is just a partial list. It is a great site, and I owe it a lot for helping give some actual information to my posts. Otherwise, I'd just be making crap up. Well, moreso than usual.

So, would we like it more if Santa was involved?

2006-11-30T19:09:00.000-05:00

Warning: This is a lot longer than I anticipated, and probably a lot more boring than you are expecting. Feel free to skim and move on. I'll understand, and I promise to post something more entertaining later in the week.

Just in case you are blind, deaf, and haven't left your house, turned on a TV or radio, picked up a current magazine, or logged on to the internet before this very moment (because I know that all of you immediately visit my blog upon logging on), it is, in fact Christmas season - one of my favorite times of the year. I've always been a fan of winter, and there is something magical about Christmas.

If you have had some contact with the outside world recently, you will have noticed this well before now. It's become clichéd to talk about how the Christmas displays come out earlier and earlier every year, so that now stores are offering Christmas candy as soon as the local trick-or-treating is over, but it is a valid observation, and worth dicscussing.

So, my friends and I discuss it.

And this leads from Christmas displays to Valentine's Day displays, and the not-very-shocking revelation that Valentine's Day is my least favorite holiday, even more so than "National Kick Matt in the Junk Day" (which, some years, is indisguinshable from Valentine's Day).

Some of my friends disagree with my sheer and utter hatred of Valentine's Day, and question why I dislike the holiday. They tend to come up with any combination of three reasons:

That I think it is ridiculous for people in relationships to expect their significant others to do something special because some guy defied the Romans thousands of years ago, or that anything the significant other does is more special because it is February 14th. Why should you need a special day to express your love?
That I think it is little more than a "Hallmark Holiday", invented to sell insipid greeting cards, candy, gifts, and expensive jewlery.
That I am bitter after years of rejection and being single; hate the feeling that I will be alone for the rest of my life; and am angry and resentful at the world for reminding me every February.

First off, let's start at the bottom. That third reason...yeah, pretty much dead on. Let's move on.

I used to, as recently as a couple of weeks ago, give both of those first two reasons for hating the holiday associated with February 14th. However this current Christmas season, I really started to notice how commercialized Christmas has become. This was driven home in a recent PinkHatHater post, in which she commented on the Christmas season, concluding with. "For a country that is so ANTI-religion we certainly like to sell it don't we?" Which made me start thinking much more critically about Christmas, and other holidays, and I found myself asking, how different are Christmas and Valentine's Day, really?

Let's start at the beginning. The origins and the celebrations. Christmas is the celebration of the birth of the central icon of Christianity. As such, it is one of the premiere religious holidays (the other being Easter), and it is understandable that Christians of all denominations celebrate the day that is arguably the beginning of their faith.

Valentine's Day is merely the celebration of a martyr who would later be sainted. The stories go that St. Valentine was a Catholic priest in ancient Rome who wed soldiers during a ban on marriage, and was later beheaded for it. While that is an interesting tale, there is little evidence to back it up. All that is really known about the origin of the holiday is that there was not just one, but two Saint Valentines (of Terni, and of Rome) who were martyred on February 14th. Historians still debate which of the two should be linked to romance and love, and even if they were actually two seperate people at all, which all gets pretty confusing. As such, let us focus on yet a third "Valentine", Valentinus of Alexandria.

Valentinus of Alexandria was a catholic priest who turned to Gnosticism after losing out on a candidacy for bishop in Rome, in the 2nd century. One of the teachings he is most well-known for is the concept that the marriage bed was the central place of Christian love, a rather radical idea at the time. He, however, was not martyred, and was never sainted (which makes sense, as he spent the last 20 years of his life devoted to Gnosticism in an attempt to discredit the chruch - not exactly the poster boy for sainthood).

In short, there's no real reason for Valentine's Day to have any romantic connotation at all. The origins of the holiday state that the day was celebrated with a feast (as were many holy days), eventually, someone sent an anonymous love letter (my guess is a shy, lonely teenage boy, but that's just a hunch), and it grew to a day where lovers would send each other anonymous cards, and then, by the high middle ages, into a day to court romantic love by giving gifts, sending cards, and flowers.

This is important to note, especially in regards to reason #2 for hating Valentine's Day - that it is a "Hallmark Holiday". Valentine's Day cards have been given for over 600 years! And the notion that you are supposed to do something special for your significant other (reason #1) dates back neraly as far and has its origin in trying to win not just the love of a fair maiden, but also the favor of her family. That's a pretty big deal.

Of course, this has nothing to do with St Valentine. So why is the day named after him? Shouldn't it be something more accurate, like "love day", or something? Perhaps the name is not so much of a misnomer, when you realize that the word Valentine actually comes from the lating word valor, or worth. So, Valentine's Day is a day to prove your worth.

However, the commercialism has gotten out of hand. Companies would have you believe that the best way to prove your worth is to spend as much money as possible. Jewlery stores, are by far the worst, pounding into your head repeatedly that you must buy your wife diamonds to prove that you really love her. Then you walk through the grocery store, and realize you also have to buy her flowers. And chocolate. And a card.

Let's take a look at Christmas, now.

First off, was Christ even born in December? Many scholars argue that he wasn't, and point to various references in the bible that prove it couldn't have been winter when that all went down. There are a variety of reasons that Christmas is celebrated on December 25th, but the basic reason is that December 21st is the winter solstice, and was a time of celebration for the pagans. The pope at the time wanted to turn those festivities into something Christian, and declared Christmas to be December 25th (yes, this is a vast, and probably somewhat inaccurate, simplification - feel free to read more on your own). The important thing is that it was a somewhat arbitrary date.

So, similarly to Valentine's Day, we celebrate something that we claim happened on a given day, when all evidence points to the contrary.

As for commercialism, no one who is of sound mind will ever argue that Christmas is anything but commercialized. However, a defense of Christmas in relation to Valentine's day might be that Christmas is commercialzed, but geared towards giving to everyone, not just to one specific person, as Valentine's Day is. The flaw in this argument is that the problem with the commercialization is not who the gifts are to be given, but the reason behind giving them.

The origins of giving gifts on Christmas are a combination of the three wise men bringing gifts to Jesus, and also to St Nicholas, who would sneak through his village at night, secretly giving money to people in need. This, of course, is where the charitable spirit of Christmas comes from, but has also evolved into giving presents to each other. Somethimes stuff we need, sometimes just things we want.

This is where we can see another similarity to Valentine's Day, and a combination of reasons #1 and #2. Many people get more generous at Christmas time, both with friends and strangers. We give to charity. Probably more than at any other time in the year (barring emergencies), we give money and gifts to people we don't even know. We buy things for people that we might not have bought them in July.

And much like Valentine's Day, how much we spend is far too often tied to how much we care.

I'm not trying to say that being more charitable during the Christmas season is a bad thing. Anytime people are a little nicer to each other can only be a good thing. However, is that much different than expressing your love for someone on Valentine's Day? In both cases, yes, you should be able to do these things the rest of the year, but if you are a little more expressive at this one time of the year, is that really a bad thing?

No, I think my issue with Valentine's Day is not the holday itself - it's all about love, how can anyone actually hate a day that is supposed to bring people together? I think my issue with the holiday is #1. It's the women who think that you have to do something super-romantic for Valentine's Day, and if you don't, you'll be in trouble.

Oh yeah, and I am bitter after years of rejection and being single; hate the feeling that I will be alone for the rest of my life; and am angry and resentful at the world for reminding me every February.

Something About Pizza: A Request

2006-11-20T23:00:00.000-05:00

My latest (i.e. my second) one-act play.

Dramatis Personae:
-Caller
-Pizza shop worker

Fade in on caller at home, pizza shop worker behind pizza shop counter.
Caller dials pizza shop
*Beep-boop-boop-beep-beep-boop-boop*
Pizza shop phone rings

Pizza shop worker: Hello, Blue Pants Pizza. How can I help you?
Caller: Hi, yeah, I think I want to order some pizza, but I'm not sure what to get.
Pizza shop worker: Anything I can help with?
Caller: Yeah, maybe. I've got this friend, and he likes this girl. Thing is, she likes one of our friends a lot, but not the guy who likes her.
Pizza shop worker: Um, I meant help deciding what kind of pizza to get.
Caller: That's what I'm asking. What would you recommend for telling him he's got no chance, and he'll probably have to deal with seeing her with one of our other friends?
Pizza shop worker: I'm not sure pizza is what you need.
Caller: Well, I've got plenty of beer.
Pizza shop worker: Ok, I guess that's a start.
Caller: Now I just need pizza to go with the beer.
Pizza shop worker: Oh.
Caller: I thought about going with pretzels, but they're too dry.
Pizza shop worker: Yeah, I can see that.
Caller: And hot wings aren't good for conversation.
Pizza shop worker: No?
Caller: No, but they go great with the beer.
Pizza shop worker: How about a buffalo chicken pizza?
Caller: Eh...nah, he's not big on those "combination" pizzas.
Pizza shop worker: Well, what does your friend like?
Caller: Blondes.
Pizza shop worker: On pizza.
Caller: He likes cheese on his pizza. Meat, too, I suppose.
Pizza shop worker: We have a very good bacon and mushroom pizza.
Caller: Really?
Pizza shop worker: Yeah, it's excellent.
Caller: Y'know, I think I've heard him talk about that one.
Pizza shop worker: Really?
Caller: Yeah. Big slices of mushroom, right?
Pizza shop worker: Yup.
Caller: And real bacon?
Pizza shop worker: Yup.
Caller: Yeah, he says,
Together: "real bacon, not fake-on."

Awkward silence

Pizza shop worker: Aaron?
Caller: Um...yeah, hi Steve. I didn't think you were working tonight.
Pizza shop worker: So, I guess I don't need to come over tonight.
Caller: Um...no. *click*

Fade to black

Ok, so that wasn't as good as my last one. To make up for that, here are some interesting facts about pizza:

- Many people think pizza was invented by the Italians. Others claim the Italians stole it from the Greeks. It's a little known fact that the pizza was in fact invented by the native Americans, and discovered by Christopher Columbus. He gave it the name "pizza" in honor of the Santa Maria's cook, Giuseppi Pizzaga, which is also where the term "pizza guy" originates (it's actually kinda scary how close to true this is).

-Two of the main ingredients of pizza are not even from Italy. Mozzarella cheese comes from the milk of a species of Buffalo that originated in India, and tomato sauce originated in America. And in fact, people had been making bread for centuries before Zeus figured out that the whole "God" thing wasn't a great way to get chicks. So really, why the hell do Italians think they have anything to do with Pizza? Freakin' thieving Italians!

-Joffery Poppadopoloczinsky (Mr. P) and Mama Celeste (Mama Celeste), the top two competitors in the "cheap microwave pizza" market, actually started their careers together. They met as teenagers in a local pizza shop, and after learning the trade, decided to go into business together. Eventually, they found that they had fallen in love, and got married. The company did extremely well for a short period of time, but things went downhill quickly when Mama Celeste caught Mr. P cheating on her with their young, Italian housemaid, Natalie D'Giorno. The marriage broke up, and consequently, so did the company.

Both Mr. P and Mama Celeste might have done well afterwards, but Mama Celeste hit the bottle hard, squandering her share of the meager pizza fortune they had amassed. Mr. P, on the other hand, married Natalie, who convinced him not to sign a pre-nup. She learned the business from him, stole his best recipes, and subsequently cleaned him out in a messy divorce. Mr. P and Mama Celeste once again share freezer space in grocery stores around the country, but as budget-value competitors.

-Ramen noodles are terrible on pizza. Especially uncooked.

-Anyone who tells you, "this is how pizza is supposed to be," in regards to deep-dish, brooklyn-style, flat-bread, or any other "style" is a lying moron. There is only one way pizza is supposed to be: eaten.

-Unless it's Little Caeser's. That's just wrong.

-When I was a kid, I thought the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cartoon (and then live-action movie) was awesome. Then I read the original comic books, which blew me away. I don't remember if there's much pizza in the comic books. What I do know is that there werent any cheesy one-liners or catch phrases, and while Michelangelo was kinda the goofy one in the group, no one ever described him as a "party dude".

-Any form of bread can be used to make pizza. Take a slice of the bread, spread some tomato sauce and cheese on it, throw it in the microwave for a few minutes, then drive to a store or pizza shop and buy some real pizza, you cheap bastard.

-Every time you order a "hawaiian" pizza, God kills a kitten and hucks it at a baby, who starts crying and causes its parent to swerve wildly, running a tanker truck off a major interstate, causing a major environmental catastrophe. Do you want that on your conscience? Do you??

-The microwave was invented in late 1945 as a way for mobile armed forces units to cook pizza for the men in the field. This plan failed as the original microwave ovens were the size of regular gas ovens, and took the cooks twice as long to heat the frozen pizzas into something utterly inedible.

-Unlike my previous one-act play, "Now Serving...No One, Because We're Snotty A-Holes and Don't Feel Like Actually Doing Our Jobs," the events detailed above did not actually happen to me, or to anyone I know (that I know of). If this actually happened to you, that's hilarious! Ahhahahahaaa... Seriously though, that sucks.

Monday! Monday! Monday!

2006-11-06T21:34:00.000-05:00

I've watched football my whole life. Some of my earliest memories are of getting autographs from Irving Fryar and the rest of that 1985 Super Bowl team, and of my brother informing me that Tony Eason is a douchebag, though I'm pretty sure he didn't use that word. Or maybe he did. I seem to remember him saying "jerk", but I get those words confused occasionally, which is why I tend to stay away from "jerk chicken".

Anyway, another memory is of staying up somewhat late in the late 80's/early 90's to watch Monday Night Football. It was just another game, the last of the week, but there was something special about it. It was at night! It got its own day! None of the other games got their own day (even on Thanksgiving - though, I have often wondered why they don't just have Dallas and Detroit play each other...probably because no one would care). I was a little dismayed, though, as every week I watched, and every week it was two teams that I only mildly cared about. Where were my beloved Patriots? How come seemingly every other team got to play on Monday night except New England? I decided to ask the great bastion of all things sports, the man who taught me what a "brick" is (my demonstrating it repeatedly in his Men's basketball league), and that no matter how many times you've missed, take the shot if you've got it - you can't score if you don't shoot, and eventually it will go in, and the crowd will go nuts (interestingly, he taught me this at the same time he taught me what a "brick" is). My Dad.

Me: Dad?
Dad: Yes, son?
Me: Every NFL team can play on Monday Night, right?
Dad: Sure!
Me: Really?
Dad: As sure as you could be elected President some day!
Me: Wait, what?
Dad: You heard me.
Me: Um...ok. But, why don't the Patriots ever get to play on Monday Night Football?
Dad: The same reason Yahoo Serious will never be allowed to host Saturday Night Live.
Me: Because they suck?
Dad: Yes, son. You see, playing on Monday Night Football is a reward. You have to play well the season before in order to be allowed to play on Monday Night. And, the more consistant you are the more you get to play on Monday Night. Make sense?
Me: Yeah, I think so. So...I don't have a chance to be elected president?
Dad: No, son.

(Note: I may have embellished some details of this conversation, like, for instance, the conversation ever happening. Someone once told me that good teams got to play on Monday night, I just remember who. I knew I should have been taking notes back then for my blog. *sigh* Moving on.)

So, good teams play on Monday Night. Flash forward to 2006. Hi. Welcome to 2006. Like your hover car? Oh right, hover cars are fictitious. Just like the idea that good teams get to play on Monday night.

Case in point: It is Monday, November 6th, 2006. Tonight's Monday Night game? Oakland Radiers at Seattle Seahawks.

Ok, I can understand Seattle. They made the Super Bowl last year (at least, I'm pretty sure it was them, I fell asleep a lot during that game - even the commercials were boring). That's one win shy of pretty much the most successful season you can have, barring a perfect season (Seattle finished the 2005 regular season 13-3). You're never going to see a 4-12 team even in the playoffs (unless they're conference absolutely SUCKS - i.e. the NFC North). The Oakland Raiders finished 4-12 last season. They finished 2004 at 5-11, and 2003 at 4-12. Sound like a team that should get a Monday night game? How about a team that should get TWO Monday night games?

Ask someone objective who the elite teams in the league are. They'll tell you teams like Indy, Denver (even with Jake Plummer), and New England. They've been in the tops of the AFC (and the NFL) for several years now, Indy and New England in particular.

How many games do those three teams play on Monday night this season?

3.

One each.

The Raiders get 2; Indy, Denver, and New England each get ONE.

The New York Jets, Green Bay Packers, Arizona Cardinals, and Oakland Raiders combined to go 17-47 last season (Indy, Denver, and NE were a combined 37-11), and get 6 MNF games. Twice as many!

I could understand if these teams looked like they'd be good this year, and thus make for good games, but that's just not true. Arizona has come closest so far, but merely ended up with one of the most embarassing regular season choke-jobs (and post-game press conference) in the history of the league.

And I know that the importance of MNF has faded with the restructuring of the Sunday and Monday night TV rights, but the point is valid about past seasons, as well. Although, admittedly, the Sunday Night matchups are better games. I guess the NFL figures that NBC viewers will be a little more demanding than people who are apparently willing to watch 8 hours of poker (remember when the "S" in ESPN stood for "sports"?).

Quick note about the Raiders play tonight - there's 5:36 left in the 2nd Quarter, and Oakland's QB has already been sacked seven times. They're on pace to give up 17 sacks tonight. I gotta admit, that kinda makes me want to watch the Raiders.

The Mike Martz Award

2006-11-06T12:42:00.000-05:00

Awarded at random, this award is given to the man or woman, in any field, who best exemplifies the glorious tradition of Mike Martz's unfathomable desire to ignore conventional wisdom, and not use the best tool for the job to the detriment of their success. Winners of this award will evince a desire to succeed on their own terms, possibly chosing courses of action that confuse and befuddle those around them, up to and including those persons involved in the chosen course of action. The award came to be on February 3rd, 2002, when his heavily favored St Louis Rams were upset by the New England Patriots in Super Bowl XXXVI. In that game, Martz refused to hand the ball to one of the best Running Backs at the time, Marshall Faulk, even though the Patriots were much stronger against the pass than the run. Recent winners have included former Bruins GM Mike O'Connell in the spring of 2006 for trading away Joe Thornton and Sergei Samsonov for nothing; Terry Francona in the fall of 2005 for allowing Kevin Millar to play in 134 games; the writers/producers of the TV show "24" in the winter/spring of 2006 for using way too much Audrey Raines when they had great characters like Curtis and Chloe not doing much of anything; Jon Denver (posthumously); and UNH Men's Hockey Head Coach Dick Umile from fall 2002 through sprring 2006 for consistantly playing Brian Yandle, when there were perfectly good road cones he could have put on the ice in his place.

This week, I am not very proud to announce that this not-very-prestigious award that I made up last night has been awarded once again. It gives me little pleasure to do so, as the award is going (as it as a few times in the past) to a man I greatly admier and respect. However, after the performance I witnessed last night, and the befuddled looks and comments I have seen and heard since, it is painfully clear to me that this award must be given today to the man we call "genius", the man who studies teams and comes up with game plans to stop them, to shut them down, to run them over. The man whose defense was fairly effective against one of the best offenses the NFL has seen, even after losing one of their best defenders. The man who for some unknown reason decided that while the running (and short passing) game was exceedingly effective against the Colts defense, tallying 2 TD's in the first half and keeping Peyton Manning off the field, trick plays and dangerous down field throws would be a better mix to beat the undefeated Indianapolis Colts.

Yes, if you haven't guessed, the November, 2006 recipient of the Mike Martz Award: Bill Belicheck.

Mr. Belicheck has declined to make a speech at this time.

My latest one-act play.

2006-11-05T11:46:00.000-05:00

It's loosely based on a recent encounter at a Boston restaurant.

"Now Serving...No One, Because We're Snotty A-Holes and Don't Feel Like Actually Doing Our Jobs"

Dramatis Personae:
Us (party of 4)
Hostess
Waitress
Random Waiter

Setting: Boston Restaurant, night; interior. A couple of groups of people are waiting to be seated. Empty tables that haven't been cleaned off can be seen behind the hostess.

Enter Us (party of 4)
Us (party of 4): Hi. Party of Four.
Hostess: Sorry, we don't clean tables after customers leave, so it'll be a fifteen to twenty minute wait. Even though there's only two parties waiting in front of you, and at least three empty tables, where we could seat all of you easily if we actually did our jobs.
Us (party of 4): Really?
Hostess: Yeah, sorry. But, if you can find a table in the bar, sit there, and we'll clean it for you and serve you there.
Us (party of 4): Ok. (we find table)
Waitress: Hi, you guys getting food? Just drinks?
Us (party of 4): Food.
Waitress: Ok. (starts cleaning table, leaves with some plates; returns) Um, were you seated here?
Us (party of 4): No, the hostess told us to just find a table in the bar.
Waitress: Oh, did she mean at the bar itself?
Us (party of 4): No, she told us to find a table.
Waitress: Oh, let me go check.

Random Waiter: Sorry, we're on a 'wait', you have to check in with the hostess and wait to be seated.
Us (party of 4): We did, she told us to come over here and just find a table.
Random Waiter: Oh, she meant that you could sit at the bar, not the tables in the bar.
Us (party of 4): No, she said TABLE.
Random Waiter: Really? Oh, I'm sorry, but we're on a 'wait', so you have to check in and wait to be seated.
Us (party of 4): What about the other people who've come in behind us?
Random Waiter: I'm sorry, but you should have...
Exeuent Us (party of 4)

With apologies to the guys at FJM...

2006-10-26T23:24:00.000-04:00

...my imagination is running wild.

Jon Miller (discussing other World Series that have had games postponed due to rain - in 1975, game 6 was postponed 3 times): Well, Joe, you were involved in one of the most memorable World Series as a member of the Reds back in 1975.

Joe Morgan: Yeah, against the Red Sox.

Jon: In New England, they remember that series for Game 6.

Joe: (dripping with sarcasm) Right, Carlton Fisk's home run. But the Red Sox didn't win that series.

tCBG: Really? No shit? Geez, I'm glad you told us that, Joe. I'm really, really glad. I don't know what I would have donehad you just let Jon get to his point about that game having to be postponed due to rain three times to remind everyone that while it was a Red Sox moment that has been remembered all these years later, it was the other team that took home the trophy. See, I was confused. It was the Red Sox - they've won, what, 6? World Series now? Yeah. 6. That's pretty good. They might have won that series, so it's really good that you told us. Oh wait, what else are the Sox know for? Ummmm...oh yeah, not winning a World Series for a really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, fucking long time. How long was it again? Let's see, something like...86 years? Yup, 86. There was 86 years between the Red Sox winning their 5th World Series and winning their 6th. Let's see, they won in 2004...their last win before that had to be a long time ago. Wait, 1975 was a while ago. Maybe...maybe they did win... Let's see...what's 2004-86? Well, 2004-80=1924. So, the Sox won sometime before 1924, which is well before 1975, so there's no way anyone would ever even think the Sox won that series, but you're too insecure to realize any of this, instead dwelling on the fact that Carlton Fisk and the Red Sox stole your thunder and now all people remember about 1975 is Fisk "directing traffic" and not your stellar 7-for-27 with 3 RBI performance, and have to pipe in and remind everyone how great your Reds team was and that the Red Sox didn't win, even though everyone already knows that, and that the outcome of the series has nothing to do whatsoever with what anyone was talking about. FUCK YOU, JOE!

FUCK.

YOU.

(Yeah, I may have a little bit of pent-up frustration...)

To his credit, Joe Morgan did talk a few minutes later about seeing the Stanley Cup in person, and how impressive a trophy it is. If he only gets one thing right in his lifetime (and he's jst about on pace to do just that), praising the Stanley Cup is a pretty good choice.

2006-10-23T22:56:00.000-04:00

Is there a rule that pizzerias can only hire attractive high school girls to work the registers? And no, I'm not being a creepy older dude, I'm just reminiscing about the rejection-fest that was my time in high school.

Which is different from looking at college girls and reminiscing about the rejection-fest that was my time in college.

I'm sensing a theme here...

Denny Green has been taking a lot of crap for his "explosion" after his Cardinals gagged, choked, and finally blew a 20-point lead late in the 4th quarter against the Bears. Many people are comparing it to Jim Mora's instantly legendary "Playoffs!" rant. There are similaritiesm but it wasn't quite on the same level. For one, Mora just kept going on as he tried to find the words to express how badly his Colts had played. Green cut his speech short, as he had obviously encompassed his teams performance in the few sentence fragments he had spit out. That, and he looked like he REALLY needed to punch something. Hopefully it was Kurt Warner's husband.

Another key difference is that you could understand what Mora was saying. His team played like diddly-poo (ok, that was from an earlier rant - another classic). Green, on the other hand...well, what the hell was he trying to say? "The Bears are who we thought they were! Now, if you want to crown them, then crown (them)! But they are who they thought they were! And we let them off the hook!" Then he mumbled something about playing them in preseason, something about no one taking preseason seriously, more about the Bears, raised a fist, put it down and stormed out.

I suppose he might have been saying that the Bears aren't as good as their record, or what every talking head analyst is saying about them, and that the Cardinals had exposed them, but couldn't hold on for the win. Of course, this assumes that you have some knowledge of Green's opinions on the Bears before the game, which, given Green's way with words, was probably something along the lines of "we have an idea of who the Bears are", so that wouldn't help much.

I think it's far more likely that Green was referring to the fact that watching game tape, he thought the Bears were that team from Chicago. Afterwards he was just reminding everyone he was right, getting all worked up in the excitement of actually being right about something. As for nearly pounding the podium, then storming away in search of something to Bertuzzi, he was suddenly reminded of the triple-bacon-cheeseburger he threw to the ground as he watched his special teams unit decide that tackling just wasn't cool anymore.

I did like Green's choices for how to deal with the most embarassing loss since the Houston Oilers turned Jim Reich into Joe Montana: fire your offensive coordinator, then get your ass kicked all over the field by the worst team in the league. Y'know, I agree that the offense should have been able to put the Bears away very early in that game, but I don't think the blame should go to the play calling; I think more of the blame lies in the craptastic players that Arizona jokingly calls an "offense".

Except Matt Leinart. He rules, according to ESPN. Which makes sense. You don't need great stats to be a great QB if you can win. Of course, if you don't win, and still don't have good stats, you better be hot and date celebrities.

On the subject of dating, I think that if I was dating a girl, and she excitedly forced headphones on me to listen to the Keith Urban song she has on her phone, I think I would break up with her. There's nothing inherently wrong with listening to crap like Keith Urban (well, there is, but let's just pretend for now that there's not), but ladies, don't ever expect your men to want to listen to that crap, especially when you spring it on them like that.

So, Jorge Garcia is dating Malia Hansen. For those who don't know, Jorge Garcia is the dude who plays Hurley on "Lost". Malia Hansen is some woman I'd never heard of until this evening. Why is any of this important? Because Hansen is rather attractive and I get mistaken for Garcia often (happened again tonight). This leads me to believe there's hope for me. All I have to do is get rich and famous...if only I had some talent.

Although it's not very fair to Ms. Hansen, to assume that she's dating Garcia simply because he's a celeb. Maybe she looks beyond the fame and money and blah blah blah...yeah, I don't buy that either. But then, I am a bit of a cynic (in the same way Bill Gates is "a bit rich").

That's it for tonight, dear readers. I hope you enjoyed my bored ramblings. Tune in next time for, um...more words about...stuff. Yeah, I need sleep.

Pretty much the best blog ever

2006-10-22T22:28:00.000-04:00

Go here. Read. Be amazed.

Assignment: 500 words on what I did on my summer vacation.

2006-10-16T21:30:00.000-04:00

We went to the Hockey Hall of Fame in Toronto, and I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! I saw the Stanley Cup! And it was awesome.

The Gentle Art of Randomness

2006-08-20T16:00:00.000-04:00

Yes, I can in fact be on time, when I try. Although, I didn't really try. It just kinda happened.

People apparently get a little weirded out when you take pictures of the back of their car at a stop light.

What is it about UNH hockey fans and bonfires? Oh right, they're awesome.

I have a newfound respect for battlefield photographers. I was 20 feet away from the fire pit , standing in front of a F-350-sized truck, taking pictures when the A/C unit some moron tossed in exploded. Took me 1 step to get to the far side of the truck, and about 2 steps to get down the length of the truck. All in the space of about one heartbeat.

Air conditioners explode when they catch fire. Big air conditioners explode and are scary as hell.

Molten glass is one of the coolest things ever to come out of a fire.

I suck at darts.

There is nothing quite like being at Wal*Mart at 3:30 in the morning. I needed cream for my morning coffee, and I was in the area.

Except for getting home at 4:15 in the morning with groceries.

Apparently, I don't like leaving Erinn n' Nick's house and heading straight home. Had it been clear out yesterday, I might have gone to the beach, again. Would have caught sunrise this time, though.

The Patriots signed recently retired linebacker Junior Seau. Some see this as a sign that the Patriots are desperate and in trouble defensively. Honestly, I don't care. All this football talk means that football season is about to start, and given the way the BoSox have been playing, I am so fucking ready for some football!

I almost went with "BlowSox" instead of "BoSox" in that last sentence. Get it? Because they blow right now.

Seriously. How do you score 11 runs and LOSE? That would be like a hockey team scoring 8 goals and losing! Not even UNH would do that. Wait...shit.

That's it for now. Until next time, dear readers, drive well, sleep carefully.

I just can't keep silent about this anymore!

2006-07-04T18:35:00.000-04:00

Alright, this is really bugging me - the Frosted Mini-Wheats ad where the girl is at the spelling bee, and starts spelling "aardvark" wrong ("A-R-"), but the Mini-Wheat piece stops her and reminds her that "aardvark" is the first word in the dictionary.

Now, one of my first thoughts is that she's getting outside help, but it's more likely that she is merely hallucinating, and the talking mini-wheat isn't acutally there. So, that doesn't really bother me.

What really bothers me is that she should be eliminated, as she had already started spelling the word, and she was wrong. Ring the bell, she's done. The end. In the commercial, they give it to her. Pffft. Whatever.

Oh, and the point of the ad is a little screwy, too. They claim that if your kids start their day with Frosted Mini-Wheats, they won't be distracted by mid-morning hunger. Apparently though, your kids will see little talking frosted mini-wheat pieces that will help them cheat at Spelling Bees. Frankly, I'd rather just give my kids a bigger bowl of some other cereal and risk the distraction of mid-morning hunger than the distraction of mid-morning hallucinations. Maybe that's just me, though.

Hurricane Stanley Hits Raleigh, North Carolina

2006-06-24T11:10:00.000-04:00

Nothing I can write could capture what the pictures say for themselves:

Congratulations, Carolina Hurricanes, 2006 Stanley Cup Champions!

Is there anything better than Game 7?

2006-06-19T10:05:00.000-04:00

If so, I'd like to know - because it would have to be awesome.

Game 7 is the ultimate game, both literally and figuratively. Sure, a single-game championship is the final game of the season, but will never have the same impact as a game 7. Seeing two teams in a one-game championship, you know that they won a string of single games against other teams to arrive at that point where each team has the same shot of skating a trophy around that night, but they have that chance just by making the finals. In a Game 7, you know that those two teams have battled back and forth for the previous 6 games, one team going up 3-2 (or more), and the other team coming back to force the 7th game.

And in the NHL Finals, when the stakes are the right to kiss Lord Stanley's Cup (wow, that sounds bad), it is more exciting than game 7 in any other sport.

I will admit it, I wrote off the Oilers. After the Hurricanes' performance in the second half of Game 1 and all of Games 2-4, I honestly thought that this would be over in 5, and we'd be watching the 'Canes skate the cup around in front of a home crowd. The Oilers, however, have been impressive in not just staving off elimination, but in completely coming back to life. And just in time to finish the season with a game that is too close to call beforehand (yes, I'm wussing out and not making a prediction, but I'm going to couch it in analysis and sports buzzwords, so it doesn't seem like I'm wussing out so much - instead, it'll just seem like I don't know much about hockey...both are probably true).

The talk (first buzzword) coming into the series was of "hot goaltenders". Cam Ward for the 'Canes, Dwayne Roloson for the Oil. Then Roloson went down, and the talk became "Jussi sucked this year, and Ty wasn't much better - can the Oilers score 7 goals a game?" The talk now is, "Where was this Jussi earlier in the season" and "Pisani really played for Providence? You're shitting me. No way - he's good!" There was also a lot of talk during and after Game 6 about Erik Cole's return to the Carolina lineup, which was special as he hadn't played since before the playoffs. And apparently the Hurricanes wanted to make sure everyone knew he was there, because I'm pretty sure he was the only one on the ice for the 'Canes.

Wait, they had the full team out there?

Wow. That was a pathetic showing from one of the top NHL teams this season, and especially compared to how they played earlier in the series. So that leaves the question: "how will they respond?" ('respond' being a buzzword used when one team loses a big game in heart-breaking, close overtime loss, or back-breaking, utter, rented-mule decimation, and must somehow find a way to pretend it didn't happen). Well, they've got to come out and play their game ('play their game' is actually a buzzphrase, used when analysts don't really know what the team's "game" is). They've got to be aggressive, take the body, get shots off, and block the other team's shots (this isn't so much a buzz-sentence, as much as I want it to be, as just a generic way of saying, "Carolina has to play better").

It's true though. Carolina looked horrible. Rod Brind'amour was invisible (not really a buzzword, more a euphamism for ghostlike in appearance; did absolutely nothing to get his name mentioned; would have served his team better by staying in the hotel and making sure the beers were cold). He, and a few other 'Canes players, have to make sure the Oilers know they are on the ice, and hope that gets the Oilers' defense scrambling like we saw in the early stages of game 5.

For the Oil, it's pretty much just do what you've been doing. Pretty simple. Saturday night, they simply did everything right. Blocking/defending shots, taking shots, limiting the penalties, taking advantage of their chances while limiting Carolina's.

And the Oilers have pressure (buzzword!) on their side. Carolina looked to be on top of the world. They won a tight game 4 in OT in the Oilers' barn, and were taking a 3-1 lead back to their home ice. After a back-and-forth game 5, they give up a short-handed OT goal (to that kid Pisani...he really went to PC?), and their lead is cut in half, the Oilers have some life again, and they have to go play game 6 in Edmonton. And apparently they missed their flight, as they just didn't show up. Well, Cole did, but the rest of them...

So yeah, basically, all I know about tonight's game is that it should be awesome.

An apology to all my faithful Buffalonian readers

2006-06-14T21:08:00.000-04:00

In my "Go Italy" post below, I made reference to the Buffalo Sabres financial issues. The sentence is misleading, in that I seem to be saying that the Sabres were bankrupt due to lack of fan support, which just simply isn't true. They went bankrupt because of their owner John Rigas, not their fans. In all honesty, I did not intend to lay the blame unjustly on the fans, I simply forgot that it was the ownership. Basically, I was lazy. I apologize.

Here's an interesting fact I found while looking for more detailed info on the Sabres' money troubles: after John Rigas was arrested, the NHL took control of the team and looked for buyers. For a while, the frontrunner was Mark Hamister who owned an AFL team. His name was crossed off the list however, after Bettman and the NHL watched Hamister buy Dayton's AFL2 team and immediately move them to Cincinatti. The NHL wanted the Sabres to stay in Buffalo.

The Buzzword is..."Pressure"

2006-06-14T17:00:00.000-04:00

Every once in a while, we can look around at the sports landscape, and realize we are in the midst of a new era in sports. Whether it be sport-specific, like the dead-ball era in baseball or the pre-shot clock era in basketball, or sports-world-wide, like the steroids era. When I look around at the sports world right now, I realize we are in the RESPECT era. It is sports-world-wide This all started with the 2001 New England Patriots, who rattled off a bunch of wins and upset "The Greatest Show on Turf" and reminded everyone that Kurt Warner was a former Arena League QB. No one respected them. Everyone overlooked them. They played that song to the tune of three Super Bowls in four years (and hopefully more to come). Unfortunately, the phenomenon has caught on, and players ever vigilant against "chalkboard fodder" when giving interviews, break it out to keep themselves focused. It's gotten to the point now where even top-seeded basketball teams in the NCAA tourney are breaking it out. You're top seed! EVERYONE respects you!

A sport-specific sub-era has emerged, though. This season, in the NHL playoffs, there are plenty of teams that could talk about not getting respect. The Sabres finished just behind the Senators in the Northeast Division, settling for the #4 seed even though they finished with 9 more points than the NJ Devils (who took #3 for winning the Atlantic). They had the same number of wins as the Sens and the Hurricanes (#2 seed, SE Division champs), and yet, no one really took much notice of that. In the West, every lower seed team won their first-round series. Each and every one of those teams could have been yammering to no end about respect. And yet, the respect talk was lacking (or wasn't, depending on your point of view). Maybe it's because hockey players are smart enough to realize that the respect card has been played more than the Galaga game at the local pizza place, and decided that the fact that the other team's goalie wasn't just sitting in his net reading a book during the game was proof that there was more than enough respect to go around (except in the Devils/Rangers series - I'm pretty sure I caught Brodeur chatting up a chick in the front row during game 3).

The word of the 2006 Stanley Cup playoffs has been "pressure". Now, pressure is a fine word, and there's plenty of pressure to go around. A smart producer might setup up a package of clips set to the Zutons' rocking "Pressure Point" to be shown during a break in play during the finals. Everyone agrees that the playoffs are pressure-packed. What many disagree on is where the greater pressure lies.

In the early stages of a playoff series (defined as the games before one team gets to 3 wins), the pressure is generally on the away team, or the team that is trailing in the series, especially if that team has looked terrible to that point in the series. Pretty much everyone agrees on this. However, once one of the teams gets to 3 wins, something strange happens. The pressure shifts. Or so some coaches think.

Conventional wisdom would suggest that the team that is trailing 3-0, 3-1, or 3-2 is feeling the most pressure, as one more loss means the end of their season, and for some, the end of their quest for the Cup. However, many of the coaches of these teams have tried to argue that the pressure is all on the potential eliminator. Some have even argued that the pressure is worse when that team is trying to win the 4th game at home. Something about a raucous home crowd putting more pressure on their own team to win, while the trailing team will have an easier time fighting for their playof lives.

The latest is Oilers coach Craig MacTavish. Down 3-1 and heading back to the surprisingly rowdy RBC arena, MacTavish never says the word "pressure", but his meaning is clear:

"That's a tough game to win when you're trying to win the Stanley Cup for the first time," MacTavish said. "There's a lot of things going on in your head. We want to prey on that as much as we can."

I know you have to say these things to try to keep your players calm and loose, but I'm just not sure were this idea came from. How many teams, especially those that play in raucous barns like Edmonton and Carolina, get to 3 wins, and say, "wow, I hope we can finish these guys off - I wish we weren't playing at home"? In the first round, I can understand a coach making these comments, but this Oilers team has been up 3-x four times this post-season, and has won 3 of those games. To top it off, the last person to make these comments? Anaheim Mighty Ducks coach, Randy Carlyle, when the Ducks were down 3-0 to the Oilers. He made the comments that the pressure to win 1 (of the next FOUR) was all on Edmonton. How did that work out? Edmonton in 5. Apparently they did choke in game 4. Well then, it all makes sense now.

At least everyone is getting plenty of respect.

Go...Italy?

2006-06-06T22:40:00.000-04:00

If you don't get OLN, you may not have heard, but the Stanley Cup Finals are underway. The big news? Roloson leaves game 1 with injury, Conklin and Smith combine to pull a "Conklin" (somewhat lost in the uproar over the gaffe is the fact that Roloson gave up 4 goals in 17 minutes, blowing a 3-0 lead). Conklin's entrance to the Finals leaves me in an interesting position.

I'm definitely rooting rooting for Edmonton, so that I can see Ty's name on the Cup. Also, Edmonton losing with Conklin in net means I'd have to hear more crap from BC and Maine fans about how Conklin "always chokes" (a subject for another post), which would suck.

However, Carolina winning would also piss off the hockey snobs.

You know these hockey snobs. If you know a lot of hockey fans, you undoubtedly know at least one hockey snob. These are the hockey fans that for some ludricrous reason believe that hockey should only be played in cold climates. Or that hockey can be played in warmer climes, but those teams shouldn't be allowed to win the Stanley Cup. I've actually been told by one that any region where you can't play pond hockey doesn't deserve to win the Cup, because the fans haven't "experienced true hockey".

What kind of bullshit is this? Elitist and arrogant. Ottawa fans are somehow better than Tampa Bay fans? Buffalo's fans are better than Anaheim's? All becuase of geographical location? Utter crap, right there, folks. Geographical location matters about as much as the color of tape the fourth line center uses on his stick.

Now, another part of their argument is time. Using a personal example, I've been a Bruins fan as long as I can remember, roughly 18-20 years now, and I'm still waiting to see them win a cup. Meanwhile, someone who became a Hurricanes fan when they moved from Hartford to Carolina has only been waiting 8 years. So I'm more deserving because I've been watching hockey longer? What's sad is that people hold this belief and don't realize how ludicrous it is.

Look, I had only been watching hockey for a couple of years when the Bruins made the Finals in 1988. Does that mean that I didn't deserve to see the Bruins win? My dad had been a Bruins fan for a lot longer. So wasn't he deserving enough? And who did the Bruins lose to in 1988? Oh right, the Edmonton Oilers dynasty. The Oilers joined the NHL in 1979; their first season in the WHL was 1972-73, the year after the Bruins won their fifth and last title. So, Bruins fans had been waiting for another title longer than the Oilers had been in existence! No one seems to mind that the Oilers won two Stanley Cups over the Bruins. Maybe that's because Edmonton is further north than Boston...

A third, and no less mind-boggling reason to root against southern teams, in particular Carolina this year, is that the fans don't care as much. Granted, most southern teams aren't in the top ten attendance figures, but most do quite well. Carolina averaged 83% capacity (up from 65% in the 2003-04 season); LA, Dallas, and San Jose all averaged 96% capacity; Phoenix averaged 89%; Anaheim averaged 88%; and Tampa Bay average 103.8% - trailing only Ottawa (105.3%) and Calgary (112.5%) in percentage, and trailing only Montreal in average attendance (21,273 to 20,509). Yeah, those southern fans just don't care.

The 5 worst attendance figures? New Jersey, Chicago, Washington, St Louis, and the NY Islanders. All well-established, "northern" teams. No one seems to have the same issues with any of these teams.

Name two teams that have declared bankruptcy in the past few years. I believe that would be Ottawa and Buffalo. See? Those southern fans just don't...hey, wait a minute!

Oh, but all those Carolina fans are rednecks! Maine fans take note - you're not good fans anymore. Sorry, I know you blow the roof off the Alfond every game, your players love the atmosphere and call you the "seventh man", but apparently rednecks can't be good fans. Oh, and apparently there are no rednecks in Minnesota, Michigan, Denver, New York, New England, or Canada.

They don't care about hockey until the playoffs! This, I can sort of understand. It's bandwagonism. However, every single team has bandwagon fans. Hell, most Americans don't care about hockey until their team makes the playoffs. I think the attendance figures bear out that the fans have been there all year long in Carolina.

Here's an example of how ludicrous this hockey snobbery is:
With the FIFA World Cup just days away, US soccer fans are excited for the start of the tournament. The US team is young and talented and plays an exciting brand of soccer. However, most US fans don't care about soccer until the World Cup. They don't pay attention to hit, have a limited history in the sport, and are more focused on Baseball, Football and NASCAR than on soccer for the 3+ years between World Cups.

So, using the "hockey snob" logic, the US team shouldn't make it out of the first round. We don't deserve to see our team win the World Cup. Therefore, go Italy.

The real irritant about hockey snobbery isn't that these people aren't rooting for Carolina (with the exception of Glen Wesley, I couldn't give two shits about the 'Canes), it's that they don't seem to realize that southern teams winning occasionally is good for the sport. People complain about national TV ratings. People complain that the national perception is that hockey is a regional sport that is only played in the north. Only northern teams winning the cup is going to do anyhting to help either of those problems?

So, yes, I will be rooting for Edmonton to see Ty's name on the Cup, and that he plays and wins a couple games as redemption. But, if Carolina should win, I will ignore the morons trashing Conklin, and will revel in the hockey snobs' anguish over seeing yet another southern team winning the Cup.

Holy crap, I DO have a blog!

2006-06-05T15:13:00.000-04:00

I haven't made any enemies in a while (though the last one I made...well, that's a story and a half...), so I figured I'd drop a few words in here to make sure that my dear reader(s) know that Gentle Art is still active.

Hopefully I'll have something to post soon.

All the cool kids...and Darci: The 2005-06 UNH quote book

2006-04-30T14:30:00.000-04:00

It's survived 4 years of traveling around the college hockey world. Ice storms and heat waves. Tubing at Darci's lake, and the flooding that was Nick and Erinn's wedding. It's been dropped, and thrown, and torn, and soaked, and transferred, and filled, and carried over, and still it survives, in one form or another. It lives in Manchester, but loves to visit Durham, and has been to Orono, Burlington, Buffalo, Providence, Canton NY, Amherst, Toronto, Merrimack, Lowell, Chestnut Hill, all over Boston, Albany, and most recently Milwaukee.

It is not so much a chronicle of the past season, but more glimpses into the exploits of our group of hosers. It is the quote book, the collection of the funniest, wittiest, stupidest things said at and around college hockey games from the past year.

06.04.05 Hanging out in Portsmouth
"You can't enjoy it if you have to think about what to do with it in your mouth." –Matt
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7.16.05 Hanging out at Darci's lake
"I held her head and forced her down." –Jason

"I've been eyeing it since you pulled it out." –Darci
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10.21.05 North Dakota @ UNH
"Sleeves are great, they're like natural born t-shirts." –Marcel
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10.28.05 UNH @ UMass
"'Furniture capitol of the world'? I'm gonna buy an ottoman!" –Mike

"Darci, your ‘there' is overrated." –Mike
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11.01.05 BC @ UNH (@ Verizon Wireless Arena, Manchester, NH)
Darci: Ugh, I hate the band.
SteveF: You have a lot of hate in you.
Darci: Well, only for people I don't like.
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11.05.05 Northeastern @ UNH
Darci: I can't feel my butt.
Matt: Can I?

Keith B: Are you leaving the bell?
Ankur: *yoink!*

"Let's go tramp! Let's go tramp!" –Intermission Cheer

"My hand's all sticky now, and not for a good reason!" –Matt
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11.11.05 UNH @ BU
"I see you guys on the other end of the ice every game, and I just wanted to say you do a great job. Keep it up! ‘Sit down, bitch!" –Awesome older UNH fan, shaking our hands

Matt: What's he pulling out of his ass? Nevermind, I don't want to know.
Darci: That could go in so many directions.
Matt: That's why I don't want to know.
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11.19.05 UNH @ UMass-Lowell
"The winning number is FD." –Lowell chuck-a-puck announcer
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11.27.05 Northeastern @ UNH
"Jay, you should never poke a girl from behind without her permission." –Matt
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11.29.05 UNH @ Merrimack
"UNH always scores when I have something in my mouth." - Darci
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12.02.05 UNH @ UVM (with Milburt)
UVM Fans: Fuck New Hampshire!
UNH Fans: In your dreams!

UVM Puckbunny: UNH sucks!
Mike: Pffft! Not on your life.
UVM Puckbunny: Our players are cuter!

"Augh, taco salad!" - Darci

"Ummmm…Uhhhh….Oh geez…ANKUR!" –Matt, Nick, and Erinn, as Ankur tries to kill us all
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12.03.05 UNH @ SLU
"Oh, that ain't right." -Ankur

"What the hell was that?" –Matt, after a bizarre Army/Navy football commercial featuring goats in a suit of armor and submarines launching can openers

SLU Fans: We can't hear you!
UNH Fans: Saints shouldn't lie!

SLU Fans: Your pep band sucks!
UNH Fans: We know!

"How do say your name? Ahhn-core? Like the word, but with an A!" –Border Patrol in Swanton, VT.
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12.08.05 Harvard @ UNH
"__________ skates faster than a speeding Yandle" –Rob (edited for offensiveness)

"It's not retard night – why is Keith B here?" –Matt
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12.10.05 UMass-Lowell @ UNH
"The one time I open my mouth, I get screwed." –Andy

"If you pick up a 4, you have to…fuck." –Matt

"Switch. Alright, you're on top now." –One UML player to another
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01.06.06 UVM @ UNH
"Fuck Fallon – oops - earmuffs fuck Fallon!" -Matt
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02.04.06 UNH @ Maine
Maine fans: We want Bunyon!
Matt: If it was Bunyon, UNH would be up 3-0!

"That was a salty one!" –Anthony

"I'm gonna make magic with you." –Marcel to Darci

"You have a 1-in-2 chance of getting rabies." –Mike
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2.11.06 UNH @ Merrimack
Matt: Farmers don't fish.
Rob: Fishermen fish.
Matt: Fishermen fish!
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02.18.06 BU @ UNH
"Alright, who stuffed dollar bills down my pants?" - Darci

Darci: That is a really big parrot! Wow!
Nick: ...what?

"What? I'll drive your stick drunk." –Nick

"Coin slot's closed." - Darci

"Damn, my car's in my phone." –Andy
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02.19.06 Uconn @ UNH (Women)
"Not down the hole again! I'll kill you!" -Rob
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02.24.06 UNH @ {PROVICED
"Oh yeah? Your mom!" -6-year-old PC fan trying to pick a fight with us

"DO NOT TOUCH ME AGAIN!" –Nick to 6-year-old PC fan trying to pick a fight with us

"My mom makes better chocolate chip cookies than yours." –Adam to the 6-year-old PC fan trying to pick a fight with us

"Hey little girl, you're going to be grounded!" -6-year-old PC fan to Darci

"She was looking at Darci like Darci was cool!" –Matt
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02.25.06 {PROVICED @ UNH
Matt: We'll use Darci's back as a table.
Darci: Is it flat enough?
Matt: Um, no. Turn over.
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03.02.06 UNH @ BC
Darci: You guys finish too quick.
Matt: That may be true, but I can do it again right after.
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03.09.06 {PROVICED @ UNH, Hockey East Quarterfinals, Game 1
"Can I have some of your sweet melons?" –Carole to Darci

Darci: Want some of my sweet melons?
Matt:*speechless*

"I'll take that shaft! Give me that shaft!" - Darci
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03.10.06 {PROVICED @ UNH, Hockey East Quarterfinals, Game 2
Jeff: They put butter on their sticks?
Matt: Well, if it's all you've got…
Darci: We did miss out on the KY.
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03.17.06 Hockey East Semifinals
"So Matt, do hottubs make you tired?" –Nick

Darci: If you see nuts, let me know.
Matt: *looks down* Found some!
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03.18.06 Hockey East Finals
"OK, all our balls are tied up with theirs." –Nick

"You're like my female sister. …As opposed to my male sister." –Nick

"I want to put a goal light setup above my bed. Wire the green light up so that it goes on with my alarm, and turn the red light on every time I score. I'd never have to change the red light, but the green on would get a workout." –Matt
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03.25.06 NCAA Regional – Albany, NY
"I poked it, then we hit a bump, so I squeezed it, and and it squirted." –Jason

"I tilted by head back, and it fell down into my throat, and I choked on it." –Darci
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04.05.06-04.09.06 Frozen Four Weekend
"Hey, Arroyo hit a home run today!" – every Red Sox fan who saw my Arroyo jersey

Waitress: So, where are you guys from?
Us: New Hampshire.
Waitress: Where's that?

"I told Gentry I'd buy him dinner if he shimmied up to the ‘No Parking' sign. I figured that if he got halfway up, he might keep going." -Jenna

Darci: Ewwww!
Matt: Was that about the beer, or Steve?

Darci: When I get drunk, I dance.
Matt: Neat.
Darci: But the clothes stay on.
Matt: Damn.

Shrader: If you let go, I'm gonna go flying.
(Theresa lets go, Shrader barely moves)
Theresa: Wow, you went flying.

Theresa: Puckman!

Matt: Can I take a picture of your jersey?
Guy in Charleston Chiefs jersey: No.

Matt: Can I take a picture of your jersey?
Providence "pin guy": Five dollars.

Greg: I have no uvula.
Darci: What?!

"You guys left me back there! Why am I all wet?" –Jason

"How'd we get back here?" –Jason

"Morning, drunky." -Darci

"Is that ball pink?" –Shrader

"I don't have a drinking problem…
…I have a stopping problem." –T-shirt at Brew City

Waitress (starts clearing our plates): Can I get you folks anything else?
Shrader: I'd like my food.

"That wasn't a goal, Shrader – your skate was in the crease! Who do you think you are, Brett Hull?"
Jason: Is that Matthew Broderick?
Matt: Nope. It's Matthew Broderick.
Jason: What?
Matt: You asked if it was Matthew Broderick, I answered, "no, it's Matthew Broderick".
Jason: I'm confused.

"This outlet is closed." - Darci
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And that's the season! It's been a great one, even if UNH didn't always play all that great. They did have some memorable wins (7-4 @ BU, 7-4 @ Maine), and the games were a lot of fun. Thanks go out to the Hosers in the Special row for being the Hosers in the Special row. Thanks to Erinn and Nick for giving me a place to stay and for always trying to keep my hopes up - Nick in all matters hockey-related, Erinn in non-hockey affairs. A big thanks to Shrader and Theresa – the Frozen Four would still have been fun, but it was even more fun hanging out with you two.

And a special thank you to Darci, the Queen of the Hosers, for help getting home-game tickets, for picking up the road-game tickets, for planning roadtrips, for telling me to go to games that I might have otherwise passed on (Orono, Albany), and for helping to keep the games fun (not to mention filling up the quote book). I've made the comment about "retiring" from the student section a few times this past season, but I'll say this now – I promise I won't retire until you tell me I can.

Up next on Gentle Art: With a new Pearl Jam album coming out Tuesday, I'm thinking of changing gears to music for a while. Then again, the NHL playoffs are in full swing...