Happy Monday
So I guess I got Kobe good and riled up, huh? Holy shit. 81 points.
What an asshole. Like I couldn't score 81 points in an NBA game.
Here are some things I was a part of on Sunday that gave me more pleasure and excitement than the football games:
-did twelve loads of laundry
-wiped the baby's tushy approximately 14 times
-washed the dishes
-was called a "nerd" by Big Jim Lang
-ate french fries, cheese puffs, and chocolate chip cookies
-drank a coke, a bloody mary, and a beer
-dreamily browsed the apple forums, then went to apple.com and pretended to buy a new laptop
-cleaned the toilet
-thought back on good times
-decided that at some point in the next two years I want to go back to Madison, WI with a digital camera, do a photo essay/walking tour of all my favorite places there and see what they look like now
-ran this idea by Vic in Chicago, who was unenthusiastic about it
-read some stuff on the internets
-photographed the baby a li'l bit
-correctly identified the song playing faintly in the background at brunch as "Your Love is King" by Sade, when the wife thought it was "Tonight's the Night" by Rod Stewart. She usually beats me at this.
If my tallying is correct, bc mi and cW tied for the footdat victory with a TPD of 31 each. They also each picked one of the two winners correctly, nullifying the tiebreaker. So they will split the genius points, we'll call it 8 each. I am also giving Dipak three points for his exact prediction of the score of the Pitt-Den. game (although he made it at halftime, it's still kinda cool).
Happy to hear that PB dot C had a good time playing hoops at his local Y. I need to start playing again. NewYear's Resolution: play hoops with Deion and PB dot C. Before I do that, I better lose at least 10 pounds. Pb dot C is one of those athletic soccer types who can run all day and probably even plays defense, and we all know Deion is in marathon shape. I don't want to embarrass myself any more than I already have in this life.
I had dinner at a friend's house on Saturday. There were seven of us there in total, and three of the seven were Columbia grads from '04 and '05. That's Columbia undergrad. I felt old, especially when they started telling their drinking stories and I realized most of mine took place in an era when Smirnoff Ice was just a story your parents told you to scare you straight. These kids were bankers, all making big coin and probably two and a half times as smart as me, although they seemed a bit shallow. It was all Vegas trips and cigar bars and dude, you treated her so bad laugh laugh laugh I can't believe she put up with you and oh we can't tell that story with the ladies present.
I knew we'd never fully connect when I informed them that the wife and I had already begun teaching our six month old daughter to hate Duke and they were like, Why do you hate Duke? Their response bothered me for a couple of reasons: one, because you shouldn't have to ask such a question, it should go without saying, we should all hate Duke, it's like asking, Why shouldn't I stab people on the subway? And two, because it's kind of hard to explain verbally why hating Duke is necessary and proper. Whatever, they'll understand someday.
In talking to these characters, I was also reminded how every group of college buddies (sorry EJ) has that one dude who's wilder and more full of stories than the rest of the dudes put together. And I realized my tolerance of "wild dude" stories is directly related to how much I like the people telling the stories. The other night, for instance, I was kind of not so into the people telling the stories, and in fact their "wild dude" was one of the ones telling them, so I was kind of grossed out by the juvenile bullshit they were spewing. Normally I love to hear juvenile bullshit, but somehow these guys got my old-timer competitive juices going, and it was all I could do not to start a sentence with, "You know, young fellas, I once knew this guy Mike D. Hunt, maybe you've heard of him..."
Someday, when Mike D. Hunt is safely retired and living under an assumed name, we will sit down together and tell his story. And you will be annoyed.
We're going to keep things on the easy-listening tip with today's challenge. For twelve points, what is Sade's last name (no internet assistance allowed, please)?
What an asshole. Like I couldn't score 81 points in an NBA game.
Here are some things I was a part of on Sunday that gave me more pleasure and excitement than the football games:
-did twelve loads of laundry
-wiped the baby's tushy approximately 14 times
-washed the dishes
-was called a "nerd" by Big Jim Lang
-ate french fries, cheese puffs, and chocolate chip cookies
-drank a coke, a bloody mary, and a beer
-dreamily browsed the apple forums, then went to apple.com and pretended to buy a new laptop
-cleaned the toilet
-thought back on good times
-decided that at some point in the next two years I want to go back to Madison, WI with a digital camera, do a photo essay/walking tour of all my favorite places there and see what they look like now
-ran this idea by Vic in Chicago, who was unenthusiastic about it
-read some stuff on the internets
-photographed the baby a li'l bit
-correctly identified the song playing faintly in the background at brunch as "Your Love is King" by Sade, when the wife thought it was "Tonight's the Night" by Rod Stewart. She usually beats me at this.
If my tallying is correct, bc mi and cW tied for the footdat victory with a TPD of 31 each. They also each picked one of the two winners correctly, nullifying the tiebreaker. So they will split the genius points, we'll call it 8 each. I am also giving Dipak three points for his exact prediction of the score of the Pitt-Den. game (although he made it at halftime, it's still kinda cool).
Happy to hear that PB dot C had a good time playing hoops at his local Y. I need to start playing again. NewYear's Resolution: play hoops with Deion and PB dot C. Before I do that, I better lose at least 10 pounds. Pb dot C is one of those athletic soccer types who can run all day and probably even plays defense, and we all know Deion is in marathon shape. I don't want to embarrass myself any more than I already have in this life.
I had dinner at a friend's house on Saturday. There were seven of us there in total, and three of the seven were Columbia grads from '04 and '05. That's Columbia undergrad. I felt old, especially when they started telling their drinking stories and I realized most of mine took place in an era when Smirnoff Ice was just a story your parents told you to scare you straight. These kids were bankers, all making big coin and probably two and a half times as smart as me, although they seemed a bit shallow. It was all Vegas trips and cigar bars and dude, you treated her so bad laugh laugh laugh I can't believe she put up with you and oh we can't tell that story with the ladies present.
I knew we'd never fully connect when I informed them that the wife and I had already begun teaching our six month old daughter to hate Duke and they were like, Why do you hate Duke? Their response bothered me for a couple of reasons: one, because you shouldn't have to ask such a question, it should go without saying, we should all hate Duke, it's like asking, Why shouldn't I stab people on the subway? And two, because it's kind of hard to explain verbally why hating Duke is necessary and proper. Whatever, they'll understand someday.
In talking to these characters, I was also reminded how every group of college buddies (sorry EJ) has that one dude who's wilder and more full of stories than the rest of the dudes put together. And I realized my tolerance of "wild dude" stories is directly related to how much I like the people telling the stories. The other night, for instance, I was kind of not so into the people telling the stories, and in fact their "wild dude" was one of the ones telling them, so I was kind of grossed out by the juvenile bullshit they were spewing. Normally I love to hear juvenile bullshit, but somehow these guys got my old-timer competitive juices going, and it was all I could do not to start a sentence with, "You know, young fellas, I once knew this guy Mike D. Hunt, maybe you've heard of him..."
Someday, when Mike D. Hunt is safely retired and living under an assumed name, we will sit down together and tell his story. And you will be annoyed.
We're going to keep things on the easy-listening tip with today's challenge. For twelve points, what is Sade's last name (no internet assistance allowed, please)?
posted by hans q. bungle at 00:28
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