The Post That Never Was

Actually, this could be a whole series of posts.

I meant to talk about the Lakers roller-coaster season long before I actually did; I was going to chime in my two cents on the presidential primaries back in January, I've got oodles of games to mini-review; and of course plenty of OOTS and PVP to talk about.

But this post is about something else entirely.

I take you back to October; as some may remember, it wasn't an awesome time for me. My grandmother had just passed away, my house had been sans renters for months (I know, the more things change, the more they stay the same...), and life was pretty bleh. Brandy wasn't in tons better shape, with a close family friend passing away around the same time and work was driving her nearly insane (again, see above). All in all, not a fabulous time for either of us.

So Brandy decided that we needed an awesome weekend to, you know, make up for things and keep ourselves from bieng in a rut of sorts. She had intended to surprise me, but wasn't too subtle about finding out what time I would be off work, so I knew something was going on.

(In her defense, I sometimes had been getting off work early, depending on how the rest of the week was working out for me, but didn't that day. I should also note that I was only slightly better at surprising her last Christmas, but I digress)

I came home from work on a Friday afternoon - shortly after Brandy and I had been together for six months - to find an envelope taped to my bathroom mirror. It was a note from Brandy telling me to pack a small bag, wear something slightly nice, and meet me at her place. I was surprised by the direction, and couldn't help but smile, glad that Brandy had thought ahead enough to place the note in a location that I would see it.

So, showered and cleaned, I drove over to her place. Arriving at her door, I knocked. No response. I knocked again. No response. So I used my key to her apartment and let myself in.

"But wait!" I hear readers yell. "If you had a key, why did you knock?" Well, I figured that if Brandy had planned something for me I didn't want to surprise her by just bargin in. Knocking gave her a chance to prepare herself.

So in I went, entering into the unknown, bag in hand, and I see a pair of big eyes staring back at me as I walk in the door. "Well hello," I said. Eager to see me, I received a quick reply of:

"Meow."

Brandy was nowhere to be found, and I was left alone in her apartment with her cat! Doing my best Gil Grisom impersonation I began looking for clues. I began by, in fact, making sure she wasn't there. Confirming that, I made a bee-line to her bathroom, hoping to find something there, as there had been at my house. And lo, my detective skills paid off! I found another envelope, with instructions to meet Brandy at a specified address, along with directions. With another lonely meow from the cat to send me off, I was on my way, eagerly awaiting what would come next.

I soon (ok, not exactly "soon," since I had to take the 91 freeway, during rush hour, which always causes problems, but for the sake of the story we'll say soon) I found myself at the address - the Mariott Hotel in Riverside! Finding Brandy, she explained how she felt we needed a "weekend away," (I agreed) and though this wasn't exactly far away, it was indeed away. Expecting an enjoyable weekend, off we went to the elevator.

As we entered the elevator I noticed a small sign which read "Enter room key to access 10th floor." "I wonder what's on the 10th floor..." I mused aloud. "You'll see..." Brandy responded, quite to my surprise, as she put a room key into the slot. I was quite excited by the time we entered and saw a "romantic suite," complete with candles (electric), rose petals, a huge bed and our own hot tub!! On the counter were some chocolate-covered strawberries and champagne, and Brandy's laptop playing romantic music.

Needless to say, we had quite the relaxing and enjoyable weekend. Of course, this is all long hand for me to say: Brandy is wonderful to me, and I am lucky, grateful and oh-so-happy to have her. Everyone should be so blessed.

Why These Finals Matter to Me

Well, for starters, obviously, I'm a huge Lakers fan.

But there's more than that.

At the beginning of last October I made a long trip out to West Virginia because my grandmother passed away. It was a difficult time for me because we had always been very close. She taught me to be a Lakers fan. All of my habits (good and bad!), my passion, my genuine love of the game came from her. I don't know how she became a Lakers fan. I never asked, though now I wish I had. But when I was young and she lived with us, I would stay up late and go into her room and watch basketball with her. It was awesome.

So I went to her funeral, consoled my family and came home and went on with life. A few weeks later the NBA season officailly started; and before long a plucky young Lakers team that a few months before had been full of bickering, trade demands and hostility began growing into a championship-caliber team. I've watched them throughout the season as they took their lumps, won games they shouldn't have and lost plenty I wish they hadn't, and every time I couldn't help but think how much my grandmother would have loved these Lakers. They're the closest - I think - to Showtime that we've gotten, and they are just a ton of fun to watch.

So I watched, and remembered, and cheered.

And now here we are, facing impossible odds, and all I can think is that I wish that she could have been here with me. I would have paid damn good money to have flown to West Viriginia and watched one more NBA Finals with her. But I can't.

So instead I'll watch it at home, knowing damn well that she's watching too - and having ol' Chick Hearn calling play-by-play the whole time no doubt - and remember her.

So the emotion will be high tonight; on the court and off. I'm sure lots of Lakers fans will feel the same way; the fear of having the season end so close to a championship. I'll be there, screaming at every call, every play, hoping for a miracle and knowing that my grandmother is doing the same.

For me, these Finals are about memories, and here's hoping for another happy one.

Celtics = Obama

I'm watching Game 2 of the NBA Finals right now, and I can't help but notice the similarities between this competition and the presidential election. See, watching (and more importantly, listnening to the damn TV announcers) the game it becomes obvious that there is really no need to play these games; the outcome has been decided. The Celtics were anoited NBA champions last summer with the Garnett trade; everything else is just a formality.

Evidence? Leon Powe has shot 10 free throws; the entire Lakers team? 2. Three Lakers are in foul trouble. Celtics? None. Paul Pierce fakes an injury and is hailed as a hero.

The reason is obvious; the Lakers are like the Yankees - the team everyone loves to hate. Because the Celtics have sucked since the '60s - with a few years excepted when Bird made them good - and the Lakers haven't, LA has become the "bad guy" and the Celtics the "good guy."

Similarly, Obama has been anoited by the media, first against Hillary in the primary, and now certainly in the General. Everything will be ignored that could hurt Obama; everything - real and imagined - will be thrown at McCain. In both cases, its extremely frustrating.

The only way this could be worse is if The Sports Guy was broadcasting.

Airport Fashion

I'm glad I was careful in selecting what shirt to wear when I flew to Raleigh last week or I might have ended up like this guy:

An airline passenger claimed that a security guard threatened to arrest him
because he was wearing a T-shirt showing a cartoon robot with a gun.
Brad
Jayakody, 30, from London, said he was stopped from passing through security at
Heathrow's Terminal 5 after his Transformers T-shirt was deemed
'offensive.'

Awesome. If you read the whole article, you find out that it was offended because Optimus Prime was holding... a gun!

Yes, now it's not just acutal weapons that are prohibited, but images of weapons that are. I wonder if I show up with a T-shirt of some toothpaste that's not in a quart-sized ziploc bag if I'll be let on the plane.

My only consolation here is that this was in London.

An Upside to Kittens

I suppose an upside to this kitten situation is that I am up at the ass-crack of dawn most mornings (at least, I have been since Sunday). Thus it gives me time to think about posting.

Not that I've had a lack of things to discuss; oh no, there's plenty to talk about from the LA Lakers finally making it back to the NBA Finals, to the presidential campaign, WiiViews, and what I've been up to, I've never really been lacking things to discuss. Rather, I've never had either the a)time, or b)motivation to post.

But I have plans. Grand ones, at that. Well, at least a little. But before I take on anything ambitious I have to prove to myself that I can keep at least a little blog updated regularly, so I'm trying once again. Honestly, the more often I have found myself not posting, the more impressed I am by people like The Reva who post so damn frequently! It's not easy!

So what's this post about? Nothing, really. Just sorta rambling. But ok, I'll talk about something. Let's talk about the 2nd best thing to happen to TV recently (the first, of course, being How I Met Your Mother): American Gladiators.

Damn Straight.

This show is awesome for so many reasons. First of all, check out their Wiki page, it's just full of good info. But I love nearly everything about this show, from the (awful! - and I mean awful) clished dialogue to Titan's mullet, to Wolf's teeth and taunt, to Helg's deep voice, to Jet and tiny little Rocket winning. It's just freaking cool. Like, retro cool, but not in a it's-only-cool-'cause-we-feel-nostalgia way. In a wow-it's-retro-and-I-like it! way. I find myself rooting for the Gladiators pretty regularly, only picking a contestant during the Eliminator when there are no Gladiators.

If you enjoyed the original AG, you will also enjoy this one. It's really just a fun show, a neat competition with really cool events and Gladiators that they try - sometimes too hard - to give some personality too.

Oh wait. One thing I forgot: Layla Ali sucks. There; I had to say it.

Everything else rocks!

A Day Late and a Short Post

I promised some people that I would post on June 1st.

Sorry I'm late.

And sad to say that this will be a (very) short post.

But both are for good reasons: Namely, we picked up a stray cat. A kitten, actually. I know, I know. I'm not a cat person, per se. But this (way too damn adorable for my good) kitten showed up on our front porch (almost literally) Sunday morning, so what was I to do? Give it to a shelter that would kill it? I couldn't do that, and so we took it in.

*sigh*

I'm not complaining; it is a cute kitty, and we named it Roxie. It just takes a lot of work. I'll post pictures soon.

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..
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Yeah, that's "soon" relative to my posting schedue, not, you know, what most people consider soon. I'll shoot for this weekend at the latest.

Post New-Year's Update

I know, I know, I've already had a mixed bag on my resolutions. But you know, two steps forward, one step back, right? If you want my MySpace page updated, give me an idear for a song; that's what is preventing me from doing that. Anyway, I've had several requests for different types of postings, but I'll start with video games because, really, they're the important part. So here are my first 2008 WiiViews:

Boogie: Have I talked about this game before? I played it so long ago, and it was so... lackluster, I can't remember. The singing part is ok, the dancing part is really annoying; but mixing them becomes massively dumb.
Carnival Games: Have you ever played a game that was too realistic? If not, try this. This game surprisingly emulates the actual feel of carnival-style games (Ring Toss, knocking clowns down, etc.) including how incredibly boring those games are. To me, this game sufferred from what so many Wii games suffer from: Too much emphasis on the new motion-sensor controller, not enough attention to actual gameplay. WiiPlay is a better party game than this by far.
Chicken Shoot: When I first got the Wii, I thought to myself "I bet shooting games will be great on this system!" Maybe, but certainly not this game. Chicken Shoot has no plot, no characters, no variety. There are chickens, you shoot them for points. Occasionally, they throw eggs at you. OOOO!! Exciting!! (Please not sarcasm). To borrow a TMQ-style item: In hell, Wii's are everywhere, but the only game is Chicken Shoot.
Mario Party 8: Finally, finally, a good game! Ok, maybe I'm suffering from the "soft bigotry of low expectations," but still, MP8 isn't that bad of a game. The mini-games are varied enough (and there are enough of them) that you aren't just doing the same thing over and over, but it's not too complicated. The boards range from very enjoyable to wierd to downright stupid. I definitely think I benefit from not having played many Mario Party games before this though. Overall, it's a great game for parties, but (due to AI cheating) gets less so the fewer people that play.

I have more (lots more), but that will do for now. Additionally, Brandy (the no-longer-new-girlfriend) is TOTALLY AWESOME and got me an X-Box 360 for Christmas, so expect some reviews for that as well (once I play some games other than Rock Band). I also have plans to talk about the over-performing Lakers and underwhelming political landscape, but now I have to get back to work.

Resolutions

My New Year's Resolutions:

1. Blog more (at least once a week is my goal; a more realistic certainty is every other week).

2. Update my MySpace page once a month (I'm just not motivated to update it right now, but
before the end of the week I will!).

3. Eat healthier (a low bar for me to clear, to be certain).

4. Master Hard level on Rock Band (damn Orange button!!)

5. Be more social.

I'll let everyone know how these things come along...

Speaking of Fires

Of course, my thoughts and prayers go out to those who have lost their lives and/or houses to the recent onslaught of fires in SoCal. The smell of fire and smoke has permeated most of southern california this week, and that smell always reminds me of two things:

Wineries and campfires.

So.... on with the stories!

My senior year of high school I picked up a weekend job doing menial tasks at a local winery (for those unfamiliar to the Temecula area, there are about 15-20 wineries there, of varying quality). And by "menial" I mean really menial tasks: Watering plants, labeling wine bottles, stocking shelves, etc. It was seriously me and what I am sure were, uh, "undocumented workers" doing a bunch of random crap. One time I was asked to go out onto the property (probably around 10-15 acres, if not more) and count how many dead vines there were in each row. Like I said, menial.

Anyway, on very, very lucky days during the winter, I was in charge of The Burn Pile. So on those days instead of coming into work around 9 or 10am, I would show up around 5 or 6, and we would gather all the dead vines, grass clippings, and anything else combustible and burn them. I was in charge of maintaining a good sized bonfire. Ahh, good times. As any good Boy Scout does, I love fire and I love burning things; and I got paid to do it! Really, that's the only thing missing from my job nowadays: Burning shit.

Now, on my summer vacations in high school, I would attempt to escape the smoltering heat of the Temecula Valley by fleeing to the moutnains, where I worked at a Scout Camp in Running Springs (to see how Camp Helendade faired during these fires, go here). One thing we would do at the camp is retire flags. Most people know that to retire a flag you "burn it," but it's not quite that simple (nor is it complex, really). The idea is that, yes, you burn a flag to retire it, but you do so with respect and solemnity, remembering what the flag stands for. So, on closing nights every week, our camp would hold a small ceremony, inviting retired and active duty military persons to join us as we retired several flags on our camp fires.

The other important rule of flag retiring is that you MUST let the fire on which you retire the flag die out naturally. That means you can't just douse the flame once you are done with your ceremony. So as anyone familiar with camp fires can attest, fires can take a long time to die out. And so it was with these fires. As such, several members of the staff would sit down at the campfire until the early hours of the morning talking, laughing, drinking Jack Daniels and telling stories until the fires had finally died. Those summers were some of the best times of my life.

*sigh* Damn, I miss those days.

So those are the two memories that have been on the forefront of my mind this past week, as all these fires have been burning.

Fear Not, Fires Have Avoided Me

Well friends, I know I haven't posted much, but thankfully that isn't because of fires. I spent some time in West Virginia a few weeks ago for a funeral and while I really (really) would never want to live in that state, it is very pretty and I woulnd't mind visiting it more. Or maybe I should just go visit the Appalachain's in general, so I can go look at coolio rocks!

And then Brandy took me away for a romantic weekend. Admittedly, it wasn't very far "away," but it was an incredibly fun, surprising and memorable weekend (with more miniature golfing and bowling included!) that I think we both needed.

So, as always, distractions keep me away. And they continue to pile on; for last night I took on what will certainly be a huge distraction from this here blog: I created a fantasy basketball team.

Scary, huh?

I haven't drafted yet (and I'm doing the easiest version of drafting - not the live draft), but this is my first fantasy sport team and I'm a little scared/nervous/excited. If anyone has thoughts or suggestions, let me know.

I'll be back soon (I hope!), but for now - Lunch!