In fact, I always thought of myself as one of the more avant-garde thinkers in the field.
But then:
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
And, those of you who know me well will know...
... that, until very recently, almost inconceivable to think that I'd ever find myself in the business of censoring penises.
In fact, I always thought of myself as one of the more avant-garde thinkers in the field.
But then:
In fact, I always thought of myself as one of the more avant-garde thinkers in the field.
But then:
Soundtrack of me
take a moment to cut-paste-and-visit
www.pandora.com
Welcome to the only place I have ever heard Guttermouth's version of "April 29, 1992" broadcast by means other than out my car windows.
Listen to it, bitches.
www.pandora.com
Welcome to the only place I have ever heard Guttermouth's version of "April 29, 1992" broadcast by means other than out my car windows.
Listen to it, bitches.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Soundtrack of our generation......
Josh, this doesn't apply to you (yet), but for the rest of you...am I the only one who's noticed the following:
lately, when I'm in a store -- grocery, department, whatever...I notice that as I walk around, I recognize nearly every song playing on the in-store PA -- there's a lot of Counting Crows, Pearl Jam, Smashing Pumpkins, etc. I especially notice it at a grocery store known as "Big Y". There are several of them in Connecticut, and one just opened nearby. Every time I walk in, there's an early-to-mid 90s rock/pop song playing on the in-store sound system -- which tells me two things:
1. Those stores are all using the same demographic research and marketing firms, which are handing them a list of songs that should be played to appeal to 30-somethings who are shopping for themselves -- and their children. .
2. I'm getting old, because I fit the demographic..........
lately, when I'm in a store -- grocery, department, whatever...I notice that as I walk around, I recognize nearly every song playing on the in-store PA -- there's a lot of Counting Crows, Pearl Jam, Smashing Pumpkins, etc. I especially notice it at a grocery store known as "Big Y". There are several of them in Connecticut, and one just opened nearby. Every time I walk in, there's an early-to-mid 90s rock/pop song playing on the in-store sound system -- which tells me two things:
1. Those stores are all using the same demographic research and marketing firms, which are handing them a list of songs that should be played to appeal to 30-somethings who are shopping for themselves -- and their children. .
2. I'm getting old, because I fit the demographic..........
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Ok, I'm tired of seeing that post...
So Chris, moved in yet?
And I will be staying here during the last week of September. Pays to have a partner who gets to attend conferences in fun places :-)
And I will be staying here during the last week of September. Pays to have a partner who gets to attend conferences in fun places :-)
Monday, August 13, 2007
And then I thought, "I just killed my daughter...."
Early yesterday afternoon, just about the time Tiger Woods was arriving at Southern Hills to limber up before surviving the ridiculous heat to pocket his 13th major professional golf tournament victory, my 10 month-old daughter announced with a sharp cry that she was awake and in need of attention.
Like I've done many (100? 500?) times before, I ran upstairs, scooped her from the crib, deposited her on the floor, and followed her down the hallway as she speed-crawled from the nursery to our master bedroom to find her momma.
As usual, she showed no interest in the stairs opposite our bedroom. Stopping just short of our doorway, her eyes alighted on a copy of the Economist laying on the floor. I'd brought it upstairs the night before to read before drifting off to sleep. I had then and have now no recollection of how the magazine had migrated from my nightstand to the floor in the hallway. She picked it up and opened it. As she pulled the open magazine toward her, the wide spread of her arms and their backward movement unbalanced her, and she toppled over backward.
It was the one thing I wasn't expecting.
It was the one time I was not between her and the stairs.
It was the one time I'd left the gate open after coming up the stairs to grab her.
And she fell -- right down the stairs.
As she tumbled through a couple of backward somersaults, off the edge of the carpeted landing at the top of the stairs, into open space above the 14 bare, wooden stairs and tile floor below her, I thought, "Oh. No!" And then I thought, "I just killed my daughter."
Audrey's tiny body bounced down from step to step. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I instinctively dove headfirst down the stairs after her. I remember crying out, "Noooooo!" I remember thinking that if I reached her, I would find a crumpled, defenseless, lifeless body, and that for all my striving to be a good father, after 10+ months of hard work every day, her life would be snuffed out by one moment of inattention. I remember thinking that seemed terribly unfair. I remember thinking, "I'm so sorry, Audrey, I'm so, so sorry."
Time seemed to stretch out in front of me, as did the distance between my clutching fingers and Audrey's frail body. At last I was at the bottom of the stairs, and I had managed to catch Audrey between the last wooden stair and the hard, unforgiving ceramic tile floor below it.
She was in my arms, and she was screaming in pain. I wish I could write that I was strong then, but I was not. I was shaking, and I was a damn mess. As I sat there cradling her in my arms, I thought over and over about the fractures she must have suffered -- arms, legs, head. I thought about her neck and head -- were they badly injured? They MUST be badly injured! Is she dying? She MUST be dying!
Cherie, who'd been cleaning in the bedroom, only to hear her daughter fall and her partner cry out in anguished disbelief, raced downstairs and took command of the situation. She got me up and hunting for our car keys, got Audrey bundled into the car, got me thinking. "Hospital's only 5 miles away. I can be there faster than an ambulance can get here and back." I jumped into the driver's seat, punched the gas on the Passat, and ran every stoplight I could between our house and the hospital. Cherie yelled at me several times to slow down, but I heard her only as distant chatter. She would forgive me for speeding as long as we reached the hospital quickly and safely. Cherie called ahead to let them know we were coming. I gunned the engine again.
Less than 5 minutes after leaving the hospital, we arrived at the entrance to the Emergency Department. Nurse after nurse, PA after PA, doctor after doctor checked her -- temperature, pulse, heartbeat, blood pressure, blood oxygen, lung sounds, reflexes, awareness, wakefulness, reaction to visual and audio stimuli, test after test after test, all with the same result:
Audrey was perfectly, unbelievably, inexplicably fine.
Aside from one bump in the middle of her forehead, she had survived plunging down 14 bare, wooden stairs unscathed. Not one more scratch. Not one more bruise. Not one more unseen injury. By the time the testing and observation periods were over, she was crying -- not because she was still in pain -- a little liquid Tylenol from a nurse had cured that -- but because the hospital trip had caused her to miss lunch. She was starving, and she wanted a bottle, damnit!
While Cherie fed her, I tallied up my injuries: two severely bruised knees, a chipped bone on the inside of my left elbow, and bruised ribs, all from flinging myself unthinkingly down a flight of stairs. Oh, and one wounded heart. I had let down my little girl, and it was only by the grace of God that she had survived.
Near as I can tell, Audrey's survival and near freedom from injury were owed to one factor. As she toppled off the landing, her body turned sideways. Instead of tumbling head over heels, smacking her head and neck with every revolution, she rolled down the stairs sideways like a giddy 10 year-old rolling down a steep, grassy hill. More often than not, she rolled in mid-air, and when she hit a stair, she hit it with her hands and feet instead of her face or head. I thank God for that wonderful bit of fortune. If not for that sideways roll, this story might have a very different conclusion.
As it is, it will be years before I can erase these images from my mind, and before I can forgive myself for what could have been a fatal accident.
Snyder, Paul, Matt -- hug your kids for me.
Like I've done many (100? 500?) times before, I ran upstairs, scooped her from the crib, deposited her on the floor, and followed her down the hallway as she speed-crawled from the nursery to our master bedroom to find her momma.
As usual, she showed no interest in the stairs opposite our bedroom. Stopping just short of our doorway, her eyes alighted on a copy of the Economist laying on the floor. I'd brought it upstairs the night before to read before drifting off to sleep. I had then and have now no recollection of how the magazine had migrated from my nightstand to the floor in the hallway. She picked it up and opened it. As she pulled the open magazine toward her, the wide spread of her arms and their backward movement unbalanced her, and she toppled over backward.
It was the one thing I wasn't expecting.
It was the one time I was not between her and the stairs.
It was the one time I'd left the gate open after coming up the stairs to grab her.
And she fell -- right down the stairs.
As she tumbled through a couple of backward somersaults, off the edge of the carpeted landing at the top of the stairs, into open space above the 14 bare, wooden stairs and tile floor below her, I thought, "Oh. No!" And then I thought, "I just killed my daughter."
Audrey's tiny body bounced down from step to step. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I instinctively dove headfirst down the stairs after her. I remember crying out, "Noooooo!" I remember thinking that if I reached her, I would find a crumpled, defenseless, lifeless body, and that for all my striving to be a good father, after 10+ months of hard work every day, her life would be snuffed out by one moment of inattention. I remember thinking that seemed terribly unfair. I remember thinking, "I'm so sorry, Audrey, I'm so, so sorry."
Time seemed to stretch out in front of me, as did the distance between my clutching fingers and Audrey's frail body. At last I was at the bottom of the stairs, and I had managed to catch Audrey between the last wooden stair and the hard, unforgiving ceramic tile floor below it.
She was in my arms, and she was screaming in pain. I wish I could write that I was strong then, but I was not. I was shaking, and I was a damn mess. As I sat there cradling her in my arms, I thought over and over about the fractures she must have suffered -- arms, legs, head. I thought about her neck and head -- were they badly injured? They MUST be badly injured! Is she dying? She MUST be dying!
Cherie, who'd been cleaning in the bedroom, only to hear her daughter fall and her partner cry out in anguished disbelief, raced downstairs and took command of the situation. She got me up and hunting for our car keys, got Audrey bundled into the car, got me thinking. "Hospital's only 5 miles away. I can be there faster than an ambulance can get here and back." I jumped into the driver's seat, punched the gas on the Passat, and ran every stoplight I could between our house and the hospital. Cherie yelled at me several times to slow down, but I heard her only as distant chatter. She would forgive me for speeding as long as we reached the hospital quickly and safely. Cherie called ahead to let them know we were coming. I gunned the engine again.
Less than 5 minutes after leaving the hospital, we arrived at the entrance to the Emergency Department. Nurse after nurse, PA after PA, doctor after doctor checked her -- temperature, pulse, heartbeat, blood pressure, blood oxygen, lung sounds, reflexes, awareness, wakefulness, reaction to visual and audio stimuli, test after test after test, all with the same result:
Audrey was perfectly, unbelievably, inexplicably fine.
Aside from one bump in the middle of her forehead, she had survived plunging down 14 bare, wooden stairs unscathed. Not one more scratch. Not one more bruise. Not one more unseen injury. By the time the testing and observation periods were over, she was crying -- not because she was still in pain -- a little liquid Tylenol from a nurse had cured that -- but because the hospital trip had caused her to miss lunch. She was starving, and she wanted a bottle, damnit!
While Cherie fed her, I tallied up my injuries: two severely bruised knees, a chipped bone on the inside of my left elbow, and bruised ribs, all from flinging myself unthinkingly down a flight of stairs. Oh, and one wounded heart. I had let down my little girl, and it was only by the grace of God that she had survived.
Near as I can tell, Audrey's survival and near freedom from injury were owed to one factor. As she toppled off the landing, her body turned sideways. Instead of tumbling head over heels, smacking her head and neck with every revolution, she rolled down the stairs sideways like a giddy 10 year-old rolling down a steep, grassy hill. More often than not, she rolled in mid-air, and when she hit a stair, she hit it with her hands and feet instead of her face or head. I thank God for that wonderful bit of fortune. If not for that sideways roll, this story might have a very different conclusion.
As it is, it will be years before I can erase these images from my mind, and before I can forgive myself for what could have been a fatal accident.
Snyder, Paul, Matt -- hug your kids for me.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Speaking of Bitches, Bitches...
...there is an interesting article in the New York Times today about the City Council's attempts to ban bitch and ho from the lexicon of NYC residents, and the resistance they're encountering, particularly because of the popularity of the word, "bitch". Turns out that in some instances (as used by Mr. Close), it is a term of "camaraderie". So to the Council I say, "Close, but no cigar, bitches."
Thursday, August 02, 2007
First Place, Bitches
Watched Cubs from rooftop on Sheffield for first time ever:
Watched Cubs move into first place, first time since 2003:
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Yikes - Bought a House
So we finally took the plunge and bought a house. In about a month and a half, we'll be living in Mt. Prospect, IL here:
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Found amid the mountains of crap on my desk...
I like to shovel through the mounds of crap on my messy, messy desk once every few weeks and throw away as much of it as I can.
Today I found one I'll keep.
A scrap of corporate-retreat-center letterhead, with the following note in my handwriting, small and alone in the middle of the page:
"Prelude to a clusterfuck."
Today I found one I'll keep.
A scrap of corporate-retreat-center letterhead, with the following note in my handwriting, small and alone in the middle of the page:
"Prelude to a clusterfuck."
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Defeat stings, but corrupt defeat really stings...
So, for several months, my practice has been competing to provide a "courts case management" solution for a large US state. Basically, a courts case management system takes the manual processes involved in sharing information between trial and appellate courts -- often involving the manual assembly and shipping of large packets of paper -- and converts it into an automated process whereby documents are created and moved electronically. The overall value of this particular project for a vendor is approximately $50M. Winning this project would have provided the foundation for a lot of plans we have for growing our practice within the company -- and not coincidentally -- would also have laid the foundation for all of us earning large salary increases and bonuses.
Having been asked by this particular state to participate in the bidding process, we spent hundreds of thousands of Business Development $$ to put together a great solution. Part of the competitive process involved spending time with state employees, demonstrating our solution and being evaluated by said employees. At one point, the competition was reduced from 5 bidders to 2 -- with my employer being 1 of the last 2 standing.
Last Thursday, we heard through the grapevine that we had beat the other competitor on the official scorecard for the proposals, produced by the eval committee. Also, the person allegedly responsible for making the final contract award decision said things to us like, "So, when you bring your team here, are you going stay in a hotel, or rent a house?" and "Please start working up the contractual language for the final contract so we can get this started."
Friday evening, we received two documents: a letter, telling us we'd lost to our last remaining competitor; and, a copy of the scorecard.
Guess what? We won on the scorecard, but the result was overridden by someone in state government to hand the award to our competitor. Why? Because the competitor had included a piece of software in its bid that this someone preferred. He intervened (some might say illegally, or at best unethically) to change the final award decision and steal from us a contract award we'd won through hard work and the development of a great solution.
So, instead of having $50M in our pocket, great corporate momentum, bigger salaries, sizable bonuses, and people saying "yes" to the things we want to invest in to create a better practice, we're now shaking our heads and struggling to survive.
Oh, and worse -- the company chosen over us has no experience providing a solution of such size and complexity, which came through during the competition, and is partly why we won. So this un-named state will likely suffer from an underperforming vendor that doesn't meet the contractual requirements, the solution won't work, and the state will flush $50M of taxpayer $$ down the toilet over the next few years. Way to go. Can't wait to read about it in the newspaper in 2 years. Then I'll tell you all which state I'm talking about.
It sucks. Thanks, corrupt state employee. Congratulations on hurting your own state and a corporation looking to help you!
Having been asked by this particular state to participate in the bidding process, we spent hundreds of thousands of Business Development $$ to put together a great solution. Part of the competitive process involved spending time with state employees, demonstrating our solution and being evaluated by said employees. At one point, the competition was reduced from 5 bidders to 2 -- with my employer being 1 of the last 2 standing.
Last Thursday, we heard through the grapevine that we had beat the other competitor on the official scorecard for the proposals, produced by the eval committee. Also, the person allegedly responsible for making the final contract award decision said things to us like, "So, when you bring your team here, are you going stay in a hotel, or rent a house?" and "Please start working up the contractual language for the final contract so we can get this started."
Friday evening, we received two documents: a letter, telling us we'd lost to our last remaining competitor; and, a copy of the scorecard.
Guess what? We won on the scorecard, but the result was overridden by someone in state government to hand the award to our competitor. Why? Because the competitor had included a piece of software in its bid that this someone preferred. He intervened (some might say illegally, or at best unethically) to change the final award decision and steal from us a contract award we'd won through hard work and the development of a great solution.
So, instead of having $50M in our pocket, great corporate momentum, bigger salaries, sizable bonuses, and people saying "yes" to the things we want to invest in to create a better practice, we're now shaking our heads and struggling to survive.
Oh, and worse -- the company chosen over us has no experience providing a solution of such size and complexity, which came through during the competition, and is partly why we won. So this un-named state will likely suffer from an underperforming vendor that doesn't meet the contractual requirements, the solution won't work, and the state will flush $50M of taxpayer $$ down the toilet over the next few years. Way to go. Can't wait to read about it in the newspaper in 2 years. Then I'll tell you all which state I'm talking about.
It sucks. Thanks, corrupt state employee. Congratulations on hurting your own state and a corporation looking to help you!
Lunch with the Lewises, my triumphant return to golf, etc.
This week, I sojourned to both Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and Tysons Corner, VA. My practice had a meeting to plot strategy in the wake of a stinging business defeat (more on that momentarily), and then we all journeyed to a "collaboration offsite" to bring some disparate (but overlapping) groups together to find ways to work together more effectively. Highlights:
1. Lunch with the Lewis Clan: Matt, Amanda, Nate, Maddie, and I shared a quick lunch at Silver Diner in Tysons. It was great to spend time with the whole family. Made me miss living in DC. Maddie is absolutely beautiful, and I can hardly believe it's been almost six years since she was crawling around the floor as a baby at Crystal Square. It just goes to show how quickly children grow up, and it reinforced for me how important it is to enjoy Audrey now -- because she'll be 7, and then 18, before we know it! Nate is a trip -- he has red hair right now, and he displayed a propensity for chewing the table while we ate! He's only 3 months younger than Audrey, and before long will be chasing his sister around. Matt and Amanda -- as I'm sure they will tell you -- are doing great, but are balancing moving into their new home in Herndon with continuing to prep the old Belvoir condo for sale. Having just renovated our own 1st floor 1/2 bath, I don't envy you guys. Good luck!
2. My triumphant return to golf! : ok, so triumphant may be stretching it. Still, I was very pleased with my overall performance. Now, I should begin by saying that I literally cannot remember the last time I played a full round of golf. It may be as long ago as the 1997 Otis Open in northern Virginia. I've had a few tournament opportunities fall through, and I've spent some time at the range in the last 2 years, but on Tuesday, I played a round with my boss at a golf club just outside Harrisburg, PA.
The club (name redacted to protect me) sits at the foot of the Allegheny Mountains. The front nine are characterized by fairly straight, flat, and wide open fairways, with several long Par 5s and some tricky water placement. The back nine are much hillier and twistier, as they take advantage of the natural topography.
On a hot, hazy day (96 degrees), I shot identical 51s on the front and back. Not bad for not playing a competitive round of golf in maybe a decade. I was particularly pleased that I was mostly able to straighten out my driver, and that I hit my long irons and hybrids very well. Short irons (8-9-pw-sw) and putter were my chief weaknesses. I did a fair amount of chipping back and forth over the green from just off the green, and it killed my game.
One good shot stands out: on the 468-yd, Par 5, #17 -- after slicing a long drive left over the trees and into the middle of another fairway, I pulled out my #4 hybrid club. I then crushed a drive 200+ yds over the trees, and landed the ball at the foot of the green, in the center, leaving me a chance to 2-putt for birdie. Of course, my short game deserted me, and I bogeyed again, but -- the best part was that my boss was watching when I hit the 4-hybrid, and later, at the bbq at his house, all he could do was talk about how I crushed that shot. Always good to leave the boss admiring at least part of your game.
3. Boring Business Meeting: Wednesday's meeting blew goats. Nothing is more boring than 5 hours of listening to your colleagues talk about "what we do". I know it's a necessary first step in finding ways to work together, but dear God, I wanted to hang myself by 5 pm.
4. How do I hate thee, US Airways -- let me count the ways.... After last night's bad weather, I was trying to fly out of DC back to NY. My first flight was cancelled in a timely fashion (4:30 for an 8:00 pm flight), but my second flight was listed as being on time -- right up until it wasn't. At 9:05, 5 minutes after we were supposed to have departed, our gate attendant announced that the plane for our flight was here, but because of crew rest rules, the crew attached to our flight was still in Boston, and wouldn't arrive in DC until at least 11 -- and her tone of voice indicated it might be MUCH later. So, I re-scheduled for today, called my parents, and spent the night at the Chapin Family Homestead. Staying there felt odd -- it has always felt like home to me, but now that I have my own daughter and family, it feels a bit foreign to me. Don't know what that's all about. Maybe it's just the continuing process of maturing as an adult.
1. Lunch with the Lewis Clan: Matt, Amanda, Nate, Maddie, and I shared a quick lunch at Silver Diner in Tysons. It was great to spend time with the whole family. Made me miss living in DC. Maddie is absolutely beautiful, and I can hardly believe it's been almost six years since she was crawling around the floor as a baby at Crystal Square. It just goes to show how quickly children grow up, and it reinforced for me how important it is to enjoy Audrey now -- because she'll be 7, and then 18, before we know it! Nate is a trip -- he has red hair right now, and he displayed a propensity for chewing the table while we ate! He's only 3 months younger than Audrey, and before long will be chasing his sister around. Matt and Amanda -- as I'm sure they will tell you -- are doing great, but are balancing moving into their new home in Herndon with continuing to prep the old Belvoir condo for sale. Having just renovated our own 1st floor 1/2 bath, I don't envy you guys. Good luck!
2. My triumphant return to golf! : ok, so triumphant may be stretching it. Still, I was very pleased with my overall performance. Now, I should begin by saying that I literally cannot remember the last time I played a full round of golf. It may be as long ago as the 1997 Otis Open in northern Virginia. I've had a few tournament opportunities fall through, and I've spent some time at the range in the last 2 years, but on Tuesday, I played a round with my boss at a golf club just outside Harrisburg, PA.
The club (name redacted to protect me) sits at the foot of the Allegheny Mountains. The front nine are characterized by fairly straight, flat, and wide open fairways, with several long Par 5s and some tricky water placement. The back nine are much hillier and twistier, as they take advantage of the natural topography.
On a hot, hazy day (96 degrees), I shot identical 51s on the front and back. Not bad for not playing a competitive round of golf in maybe a decade. I was particularly pleased that I was mostly able to straighten out my driver, and that I hit my long irons and hybrids very well. Short irons (8-9-pw-sw) and putter were my chief weaknesses. I did a fair amount of chipping back and forth over the green from just off the green, and it killed my game.
One good shot stands out: on the 468-yd, Par 5, #17 -- after slicing a long drive left over the trees and into the middle of another fairway, I pulled out my #4 hybrid club. I then crushed a drive 200+ yds over the trees, and landed the ball at the foot of the green, in the center, leaving me a chance to 2-putt for birdie. Of course, my short game deserted me, and I bogeyed again, but -- the best part was that my boss was watching when I hit the 4-hybrid, and later, at the bbq at his house, all he could do was talk about how I crushed that shot. Always good to leave the boss admiring at least part of your game.
3. Boring Business Meeting: Wednesday's meeting blew goats. Nothing is more boring than 5 hours of listening to your colleagues talk about "what we do". I know it's a necessary first step in finding ways to work together, but dear God, I wanted to hang myself by 5 pm.
4. How do I hate thee, US Airways -- let me count the ways.... After last night's bad weather, I was trying to fly out of DC back to NY. My first flight was cancelled in a timely fashion (4:30 for an 8:00 pm flight), but my second flight was listed as being on time -- right up until it wasn't. At 9:05, 5 minutes after we were supposed to have departed, our gate attendant announced that the plane for our flight was here, but because of crew rest rules, the crew attached to our flight was still in Boston, and wouldn't arrive in DC until at least 11 -- and her tone of voice indicated it might be MUCH later. So, I re-scheduled for today, called my parents, and spent the night at the Chapin Family Homestead. Staying there felt odd -- it has always felt like home to me, but now that I have my own daughter and family, it feels a bit foreign to me. Don't know what that's all about. Maybe it's just the continuing process of maturing as an adult.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Hey, motherfuckers, hey...
...so tonight, I'm stuck in the cowtown of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, which is home to the hq of the practice I work for. Don't ask me why it's headquartered in PA, it's a long story.
The good news is that tomorrow morning, I have to be in Tysons Corner for a conference from 1-5, and then I fly out at 8. If any of you DC-based motherfuckers are interested in getting together around lunch or dinner time, call my cell at 203-448-6908.
BC
The good news is that tomorrow morning, I have to be in Tysons Corner for a conference from 1-5, and then I fly out at 8. If any of you DC-based motherfuckers are interested in getting together around lunch or dinner time, call my cell at 203-448-6908.
BC
Friday, July 06, 2007
Sunday, July 01, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Friday, June 22, 2007
Well hell, as long as we're looking back: A worthy successor to the Cardigans; Busch Series
1) Remember being captivated by the Cardigans' "Lovefool"? For some of us, for a while there, that was the theme to shaft. Anyway, based solely on their single that I've heard so far ("Lights On") the Pierces may be a worthy successor.
2) Timmy McCreadie is scheduled to pilot RCR's #31 in this weekend's NBS throwdown. Grew up watching the kid from Watertown fence with his dad, Barefoot Bob McCreadie, maybe the best dirt-track big block modified driver ever, on the 1/3 mile D-Shaped Dirt Demon, Brewerton Speedway:
2) Timmy McCreadie is scheduled to pilot RCR's #31 in this weekend's NBS throwdown. Grew up watching the kid from Watertown fence with his dad, Barefoot Bob McCreadie, maybe the best dirt-track big block modified driver ever, on the 1/3 mile D-Shaped Dirt Demon, Brewerton Speedway:
... Anyhoo, Tim was last year's champ in the WoO Late Models, and his "ABC" career kicked off with a 4th in last weekend's ARCA in Mich. Not so bad for a kid from Watertown who grew up racin' at a place where, "If you don't have dirt in your beer, it ain't racin'."
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Hey, It's Been Awhile
The blog is still here? I thought it would be shut down by now because of Brian’s oxycodone and valium addiction. Oxycodone and the “iteret” do not mix.
Couple other thoughts:
- Sammy Sosa hit his 600th home run yesterday and it’s hard to judge exactly what that means. Of all the big home run hitters of the steroid era, he is the only one who hasn’t been linked to one of the true steroid connections – BALCO, Jose Canseco, etc. But it’s hard to get past the era that he piled up those numbers.
What is also interesting – to me at least – is that unlike Barry Bonds or Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa’s home run barrage was accompanied by a marked improvement in his overall offense, particularly his batting average. In 98, all McGwire did was hit home runs and bat .260. Sosa hit all the home runs and improved his BA dramatically.
The other thing that is interesting is that Sammy’s declining output can be traced not to the increased scrutiny of steroid use, but getting hit in the head early in 2003. He was never the same again. - Cubs fans, I just don’t think it’s going to happen this year. Though the emergence of Felix Pie, THE RIOT, and Fontenot along with pretty good pitching gives hope for the future. Now if only we could get a right fielder who could play.
- I view the rapidly approaching Simpsons movie with trepidation - this could be a huge letdown, much like the last 5-7 seasons. Of course, I have to say, I have been catching up on some of this season's episodes and I have been laughing again. So there's hope.
- I will be seeing Transformers. But I may have to rent the original Transformers movie. The original is always the best. Yes, that is sarcasm.
- Will Dick Butkus be the next coach of New Mexico University's men's basketball team? Devotees of T-NBC will know what I'm talking about.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Audrey enjoys her first sailing trip
Wherein Audrey learns her knots, tries her hand at sailing, and poses for the camera....
Friday, June 15, 2007
American Express...
So, my employer's New York City corporate offices are on the 14th floor of "3 World Financial Center", also named the "American Express Tower". I've been spending a lot of time there during the last couple of weeks working on a proposal. And I just have to say, that damn, American Express sure does employ a lot of talent.
If you know what I mean.
I'd include pictures, but the act of taking them probably would get me kicked out of the building and fired.
By the way, I've now been with my current employer 5 years, 5 months, and 1 day. Whomever bet against me in the "Will Chapin last Five (ok, 1) year(s)?" pool better pay up. I'm talking to you, Joe Weinberg.
If you know what I mean.
I'd include pictures, but the act of taking them probably would get me kicked out of the building and fired.
By the way, I've now been with my current employer 5 years, 5 months, and 1 day. Whomever bet against me in the "Will Chapin last Five (ok, 1) year(s)?" pool better pay up. I'm talking to you, Joe Weinberg.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)