Sunday, November 30, 2008

People who look like me: Part 3

Don't know who this guy is, but he certainly has a big beer going on there. The resemblance is uncanny - I even make the same grimace!!

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Review: Batting Cages

I don't think I've held a baseball bat since high school. And even then I was probably just holding it for my friend Geo while he tied his shoes. OK, so sports were never really big in my family. And I'm part of the reason - sports seemed brainless, and completely lacking in words I could bury myself in. Plus, you can't really fail at words. Fastballs, on the other hand, send a pretty clear message when you don't connect with them.
So I went to the batting cages in rural Virginia. There was a tent of wire and nets behind a golf course. The chilly 40-degree air wasn't stopping the golfers, and even the chilly aluminum bat couldn't damper my spirits. I slid in the token and the pitching machine, which seemed to be running on a particularly noisy lawn mower engine, squealed to life.
I felt the slow softball lane was a good place to start. Helmet on, bat on shoulder, I watched two pitches sail by me. Then I swung. CRACK. It careened off to the left. Then another. And another. Out of 20 pitches, I probably hit 15. I was stunned. In my mind's eye I was still a lanky, uncoordinated teen who only entered sporting events for a lark, or for laughs. It was tough to update that version with the current reality.
Now, swinging that bat in the cold, I loved the fact there was nothing to read or to remember. There was no quiz. There was no one to impress. Then was no real start or finish. There was no pressure. So I smacked softballs (and later baseballs) until my fingers were blue and my hands were ringing from the impact. I can't wait for more.

Friday, November 21, 2008

Review: A "Quadruple Stuff" Oreo

Eric Cartman gets credit for introducing it to me. Don't be fooled by the filling - It's a dangerous item. Inviting, scented, but it hides a secret. Inside its luscious cookie exterior is a creamy middle so large that no baker could have envisioned its manufacture. And so, where technology leaves a gap, man fills in the space with forbidden knowledge. I didn't even create this one - two halfs somehow found each other inside the plastic tray. But one thing is certain - there is more sugar inside that any man was meant to eat. At least in one bite, anyway... The best part is actually just saying out loud, "I just ate a quadruple stuff Oreo. What the hell did YOU do today?"

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Clueless in Seattle (and everywhere else)

Should we stop the self-destructing economy by bailing out the middle class? Or the auto industry? or the banks? No one seems to know, and, more importantly, no one has any confidence in anybody else. Not exactly sure why Obama seems to want to bail out Detroit when the Whitehouse doesn't - seems like a role reversal.