Redwings Bust

Just got back from the Redwings @ Sharks game, where the Redwings lost 1-5. They had a shitload of their top players taking an extra day off from their Olympic tour.

About 16 of us from work went, and poor Ben, who had arrived with three of his friends, all of whom were decked out in full Redwings jerseys and regalia, was practically in tears! I wasn't so much disappointed as pissed off, though I was definitely rooting for the Wings. Can't these fuckers even tie their fucking shoelaces without their Swedish star teammates babysitting them?

Real bummer, I paid 27 bones to see some of the shittiest hockey. Amazingly the Sharks had it together. But there was a lot of fighting and headlocks, so it was still worth it. My high school friend RM was a Redwings postergirl and sort of inspired me to root for them. *sigh*

Judged a round at my little sister's NFL tournament Sunday. No, that's National Forensic League. Debate. But she does the much lamer "Lincoln Douglas" style debate. I did Policy (also called Team) debate. I loved debate so much during high school; it was wonderful coming back to judge. The Aff team dropped a few critical arguments in their rebuttals, and it pained me to vote Neg, because the Aff was clearly a way better team. *sigh* again. But I did run into JD, whom I debated once with my debate partner RL, and I hadn't seen him since the Santa Clara University tournament many years ago. Also, one of the teams that I judged knew my debate partner RL and some other people associated with my high school debate team. What a small world! And the Lynbrook high school coach looked the same as always, just older.

My favorite part of judging is being able to wear ripped jeans and flip-flops and maintain my stoic, impartial countenance while the teams falteringly debate each other. It's a powerful position to be in and it's just fun to be so relaxed and act blase about it while the high school debaters are sweating bullets in their suits, ties, skirts and heels. I remember paying those dues long ago and it's nice to be on the other end of it.

I loved how you could adopt a "what the fuck are they talking about" attitude during cross-examination, as you belittled the opposing team's bullshit arguments and came up with a crazy line of questioning that made them sound like idiots. I loved looking through the other team's evidence while they were speaking and pointing out fallacies and general bullshit during the next speech.

Bantering offhandedly about two nuclear wars outweighing the impacts of localized genocide may seem sick, but I overlooked that because strategizing about which arguments to run and how to "turn" them was fun. You can even come up with alternative voting paradigms and try to sell that to the judge. Then the debate becomes highly philosophical, evoking the likes of Kant and Machiavelli, and Edward Said ... through some feminist authors in there too. If the judge agrees with your paradigm, it's more than likely that s/he will vote for you too. It's a very tactical activity.

But what I loved most about Policy Debate is that it was the only Speech & Debate event where it often didn't matter what you wore or what you looked like, and you didn't even have to have good presentational skills. You could stutter up a storm, but as long as you were somewhat intelligible and made better arguments than the other team, you won. I liked Team Debate (or Oxford, as it was often called) because it was almost anti-presentation, anti-looks, anti-fluff, anti-stlye, all about substance.

Which is probably why I quit the swim team to focus on the debate team. It doesn't get any nerdier than that!

Smokey the Bear goes Equestrian

So I took this online personality test today and it appears that I am a Leader of Potheads. Too bad pot makes me nauseous and vomity. Why can't I be a Cokehead Leader, or an Ecstasy Queen? I'd be really good at that!

Sorry to bring up the Olympics again, because I know you're sick of hearing about it, but I saw the bobsledding today and couldn't resist - those guys wear motorcycle helmets. You know what that means... I'm just one Spiderman-suit away from being a walk-on!

God I fucking hate work-related extracurricular events. This guy at work hosted a ribs dinner at his place on Friday. Don't get me wrong. I like ribs, and I really like J. He's ex-Naval Academy, we discuss action sports, car racing, weaponry, artillery, and military aircraft, the whole deal. But I don't fucking want to do anything outside of work with the other fucks at work. Cause I fucking hate work-related events. Especially because I hadn't exercised all week (due to work, no less) and felt like a fat blob; I wanted to go for a run or lift instead. But J. broke me down, I went (a) because he kept on badgering me about it, and (b) because I'm trying to win brownie points with the office so they don't fire my ass.

But I ended up having a grand time playing with J.'s girlfriend's sister's baby, who is only 9 months old but practically walking and very active and sociable. Little J. was so adorable, she took a nice long catnap on my lap, and snored and even had sleepy twitches. She struck me as completely different from my cousin's baby, who is almost a year old but remains surgically attached to her mom and isn't hardly walking yet. We watched Full Metal Jacket. "Private Pyle, you are a disgusting Fatbody!" And need I mention that the wine-marinaded ribs were fantastic? We even had Gewurztraminer, my favorite wine!

I went trail running today again at Castle Rock and met Cody the Forest Ranger horse. The ranger told me that they keep horses down at Bernal Road where the gun club is, and they trailer them out to all the parks and have them march in parades. Cody is a compact little quarter horse with a white blaze on his forehead and a beautiful bay gloss to his coat, which belies his 16 years. It was calming to pet him.

Old friends/New boyfriends

I may have to dump my boyfriend, Bode Miller, for France's very hot Fabian Bourzat, with his glorious chestnut curls and soulful baby face. But Fabian loses big points for (a) being named Fabian, and (b) being an ice dancer. Think about it: one of the most important tricks he does on the ice is called a "Twizzle." What the fuck?

Can I just interject here that I'm more than happy to take a pass on a number of the sports I have seen televised. Namely: ski jumping. aerial ski acrobatics. figure skating. You can fill in the blanks where I've missed some "crazy sports." Flying through the air like a projectile, bobbling and swerving, attempting to land on either: (a) hard-packed snow or (b) shiny, gleaming hard ice. Big pass. Skeleton seems kind of interesting, and it sounds bad-ass, and the skills required seem somewhat more entry-level, compared to doing insanely coordinated flips and superman poses while skating backwards on one foot carrying a 90-pound girl partner.

Went shooting at the gun club on Saturday with Ben & his roommate Carl. The weather was crisp and my fingers tightened up on the girly-ass .20-gauge I was using. Side note: our Italian-sounding Fiocchi ammo is from Ozark, Missouri. No shit. We were a little too ambitious and ended up trying the difficult clay pigeon stations. I am talking far-away difficult-to-see clay pigeons here. Carl and I both got the same score: a whopping 8 out of 50 shots, while Ben did much better: 18 out of 50!

I know what you all are thinking: Did I shoot anyone? The answer: Not that I know of.

And the cows survived.

Saw my high school friend R., whom I hadn't seen since her wedding five years ago, this weekend. Her dad cooked a delicious salmon for dinner on Saturday and we ran to Vasona Park on Sunday morning. R. has become quite the triathlete and is very dedicated. Meanwhile, I am on the slobbish side: I'm just happy if I make it out for a swim or a run most days. =) R. reminds me of several of my friends who are super-high achieving, driven, outspoken, feminist women with more mellow and low-key boyfriends/husbands/fiances. I also have a tendency to be the more "animated" one in relationships. I wonder if relationships function best with these types of "opposites."

R. and I also commiserated over how the natural early birds of the world are at a supreme advantage in society. Those whose bodies automatically wake them up at the butt crack of dawn are perceived as hard-working, dedicated and goal-oriented, while us hard core night owls don't get any recognition for our ability to pull all-nighters partying, studying, or both, and leave those cereal-munching "I go to bed at 8 pm so I can wake up at 3.45" clowns in our nocturnal wake. Fuckers! This just means I need to work in a different industry: food service, entertainment, door bouncer. That's why I'm practicing guitar so hard.

I also ran into H.S. and W.T. (separately) from high school, as I was busy doing a shitload of work at Los Osos. H.S. did some consulting in NYC (we were both in Manhattan during 9-11 but we had no idea) and is now applying to med school. I am looking forward to spending more time with W.T., who is now an English teacher at the local high school. I literally hadn't seen her since graduation. It's so nice to come back as the ex-dork and actually be able to connect with people as a born-again social butterfly. Who likes shotguns.

Snowboard Cross

Wow! Pretty fucking cool. I approve! The best part is when the guys cut each other off and one of them wipes out, taking out everyone behind him! ROFL!

But what is up with these uniforms? It's like the fucking Yankees decided to toss their bats and go to Italy. They're just a few stripe-widths away from prison jumpsuits, or just a few gore-tex layers from pajamas.

I had another deep thought after doing my 25-fly-no-breathers at the pool this afternoon, and I wanted to share it on here, but it seems to have escaped me. Sorry.

Monster Wave!

Surfed Bolinas on Sunday. With the full moon helping things out, the waves were decidedl above average. A thrilling day, with gorgeous warm weather ... dare I say, in stark opposition to normal Bolinas operating conditions. The beach was also crawling with your usual palette of Marin hippies and their excited dogs. I love Bolinas!

The grey-green water was cold, and I was shivering after about 2 hours, even with my Roxy 4/3 Cell, but it was worth it. I went with a bunch of guys and I wasn't about to be the first one to go back to shore. Represent, that's my motto.

About an hour into our session, the absolute largest mass of water I have ever seen with my own eyes arose before me. It was easily 15 to 20 feet tall, if not taller. Massive. I watched as it approached swiftly and everything fell silent. I had seen waves on television that dwarfed this one, but it's a little different when you're seconds away from getting smooshed.

Strangely, a sudden eerie calm overcame me, even though I was fully terrified. I was completely focused on one thing: survival. I was clear; no one was around me. I kicked my board back and dove headfirst into the meat of the wave and let it crash over me. Miraculously, it did, and I just felt a strong tug on my right leg by the leash.

What a rush! If only I could approach other hurdles in life with the same coolness and resolve.

On an unrelated note, I just saw the funniest thing on television. Today is/was the dreaded Valentine's day. I fucking hate this day that makes everyone (single or not) feel like shit. But anyway, the late news on Channel 11 had a reporter interviewing single folks this evening. They put a mug of the person talking on screen, with their name, like "John Smith," and their title, which would normally be something like, "City Councilwoman," "Local Homeowner," or "High School Student," was "Single." Hilarious! What a grand scheme for public humiliation on V-day! Might as well make that "Loser," "Dateless," or, more to the point, "Worthless Piece of Shit"!

Another great story idea would be to figure out just how much suicide hotlines and actual suicides spike on or around V-day. I wouldn't be surprised to see a helluva jump in these figures.

But seriously, this day is particularly dangerous because it is a huge faux pas to share the chocolates you have received. This is equivalent to saying, "You suck, pathetic dork!" to your single friends. So, you're basically stuck eating all the fattening chocolates you received by your goddamned self.

This day also tends to engender an arms race of sorts, among both gift givers and receipients, who are trying to outdo the Joneses next door, but all the while remaning secretive about it, as though they were mining plutonium ore in their quest for nuclear power and world domination. Yuck, I'm so glad it's over!

And one more thing: those Olympic girl snowboarders rock so hard! Especially Kelly Clark, who managed to get phenomenal amounts of air on her last run. I have never seen a girl get so much air; it makes me proud to think that someday women snowboarders will be close to indistinguishable from guys. It's a pity that she skidded out on her last 900 - I still think she was robbed of some Olympic bling.

Lowered Zamboni Dragsters

So we went to the Calgary vs. Sharks hockey game on Monday night. I’d never been before, though I’ve played my share of pickup games. We were sitting in the oxygen tank section, which I really shouldn’t complain about, because my friend Misha said she was hanging from the ceiling on Saturday night. =P

Pre-first period: Secured some non-piss beer, from Tied House. Up to standards. Arrived back in the stadium just in time for poorly and breathlessly sung Canadian and American anthems. I put my hand on my heart for the latter, but felt dorky. Ended up folding my arms instead.

First period: Shitty. Calgary was asleep or something, they were playing very defensively and the Sharks were all up in their biznatch the whole time. Ending score: 1-all.

Break: This dude was offered $7600 from Gas Station 76 to shoot at and make a goal from the center line. What the fuck? He ended up with $76 with a shot from the “penalty box.”

Second period: A little better, but still sloppy on both sides. Calgary up three. Cracked up watching players sitting it out in the penalty box and seeing guys double on each other during power plays. Instructive.

Break: They recruited three teenage boys from the audience and had them race around on tricycles. They also gave away a shitload of electronic devices, like mp3 players and digital cameras. It was Brewster the Zamboni man's birthday, so they put a tight shot of him up on the jumbotron for like, 10 laps on the ice. He looked up a couple times and was like, "What the fuck?"

Third period: Finally, getting my money's worth. This is real hockey. The Sharks scored 2 goals in less than a minute, repeating some previous game's "miracle." The arena filled with screams and people making communist dictator gestures with their fists, that is, if they weren't making these revolting "shark attack" gestures with their arms. As a surfer, it really disturbed me, especially with the accompanying "Jaws" theme. Final score: Calgary won, 4-3.

Overall, a good time, plenty of entertainment. And then there was the Kiss Cam, too, and the fake Zamboni races on the Jumbotron.
My first game ever... exciting, pure entertainment.

And yeah, lowered zamboni dragster racing? Yeah, I'd pay to see that.

Marshmallow Eggs

I've been waking up wanting to slit my wrists these last couple mornings. I helped Janice move out of her and her boyfriend's apartment on Friday night and it was horrible. I feel for her, and the experience brought up all these sad memories for me.

They'd been living together for four years out of the 5.5 total they've been together. He'd been promising to propose for the last four years. What a fucking crock. On New Year's Eve he busts out the whole, "I'm not so sure about this" spiel. She's like, what the fuck? That came, like, at least 3 years too late.

I helped her cart her shit back to her new place, met her roommate, who was fresh off the boat from France, and we made a quick Ikea run (I think Ikea is utopia, but that's another post) ... and went back to her old place for a last carload. I treated her (ex) boyfriend in a civil and polite manner, but I was *not* pleased with him. She managed to keep the sniffles to a minimum when she said goodbye to him, and I am so glad I was there to help her be strong. I was so torn up myself, I wanted to crumble. The scene triggered an instant-replay of my parents' goodbye to each other many many years ago, when I was only five. It is only now that I realize why this moving day affected me so deeply.

I admire Janice for her amazing strength in this situation. The pain of separation, the glory of re-emergence as a new person. Severing ties, reaching out with tiny tendrils for new ones. The hottest fires forge the strongest swords.

Apologies for the cliches. Yes, reasons to stay single. It's important to remain unattached, I've decided. I went trail running yesterday morning after feeling like taking a razor to the wrist and I realized that I can learn a thing or two from Janice. This type of thing definitely sets you back, but she's determined to pick up the pieces and move on, if he doesn't come around with a proposal. She's already got two dates lined up.

But I've got another reason to stay single. Chinese New Year. If you're not married, you still get money from the older folk. I just returned from a gargantuan Chinese New Year dinner involving poached eggs that looked like marshmallows, giant-ass crabs, drippingly porous tofu, bony fish, and red bean soup. Yummmy. But the thing is, you only have to give out the red packets of money if you're married. So, if you can stay single (keep your fingers crossed) you'll continue to score money ... at least until your folks get old and then it's your turn to dish out the cash.

Is there room for me in Tooldom?

First off, let me say this. I think people who blog are self-aggrandizing tools. They're big-time exhibitionists and pedagogues who think they actually have something to offer the world. They'll be spouting on about Bush's latest fuckup or their pet theories on on why Schrodinger's cat really is dead or, even worse, discussing in excruciating detail their morning encounter with the boss or how Billy didn't sit next to them after second period English class.

Do I look like I give half a shit?

Fuck No! You're a retard if you think people actually read this drivel!

Then there's the goody-goody types who will use their blogs to "keep in touch" with everyone in their life. These are the worst. They'll post pictures of their trip to Peru with feel-good stories about how Stacey gave some barefoot little mountain boy a chance to use her digital camera and he he nearly pissed his pants in excitement. Ugh! Where's the fun in that kind of blog? If everyone you know reads it, you don't get to rip on them!

Conversely, there's the kind of blog where everyone gets ripped on, including your closest friends. That doesn't work, either, because you can't let anyone know you're keeping a blog, and the only people who read your blog are people you don't know. Then your blog exists in some kind of parallel universe to you, without any interface between your real life and your internet life. That just sounds pathetic.

Conclusion: Blogs! Useless!

However ... with that being said, I've decided I'm ready to join the ranks of bloggers. After years of scorning these fools, I'm ready to make my entree into Tooldom.

I've got plenty of venom and bile and my own bullshit theories to share. I've also got agonizingly boring stories about my boring-ass life. So I guess we'll give it a go. Of course, I'll be dodging the rotten eggs and tomatoes on my way in. Thanks for listening ...