So I just finished watching Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World. I'll be honest, when I first saw the preview on TV, I thought it was going to be mediocre at best. Now don't get me wrong, I really like Michael Cera. But I couldn't picture him in a role like this, and the whole plot line seemed kind of dumb.
Holy shit. Quick side note. I'm half-watching Conan that I recorded from Tuesday night, and I just half-saw a preview of a movie called Never Say Never. It's a movie chronicling Justin Bieber, and of course, it's in 3D. Someone please shoot me now. Well, shoot Justin Bieber, then shoot me. Thank you.
Okay, back to Scott Pilgrim. So a friend told me that this movie was actually pretty good, and I saw that it was on demand, so I decided I'd give it a shot. Like I said before, I like Michael Cera. I've seen Juno, Paper Heart, Superbad, Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist, Youth in Revolt and Year One. I loved all those movies, except Paper Heart and Year One.
Paper Heart was alright, I guess. Just wasn't really my cup o' tea. Year One, however, I hated. I didn't necessarily dislike Michael Cera's character in it. Jack Black ruined the movie for me. He's just so damn annoying. Ugh. He ruins pretty much everything he's in.
Okay, back to Scott Pilgrim... again. I plan to stay on topic here, for a bit, at least. I'll be the first to admit that I was totally wrong in my assumption about this movie. It was very original (as original as you can be these days). I loved the whole comic book-/video game-style that was incorporated into it. And the fight scenes were fantastic! Some of it was over the top, but that's what made it so great! It was almost like watching a badass video game fight. Now I don't know if Michael Cera did his own stunts. I hope he did. He really nailed the fighting down well. I never knew he could be such a badass! This movie took him totally out of his realm, for the most part. He was his usual awkward self for much of the film, but when he put on his BAMF hat, he really effed shit up.
The plot was pretty good, too. It wasn't as dazzling as the fight scenes and their originality, but it was good nonetheless. He basically had to fight--and defeat--all seven of his new girlfriend's exes in epic, video game-style battles, complete with points and achievements and power-ups. While that was brilliant, it was just another typical love story. He even loses her briefly and has to win her back; like we've never seen that one before. But then again, what can you do? Everything's pretty much been done. You can only adapt it to a different setting or tweak it a little here and there.
If this movie were more about the love story and budding romance, then I wouldn't have liked it as much as I did. But because it was centered around the fighting and its comic-like and video game orientation, it was just great. I loved it.
After seeing the previews for this movie, I suppose I would have expected 2 out of 5 stars. But I've opened up my mind and eyes and am thankful that I have. I guess you could say I was wrong. Savor this one, too, because my being wrong is a rare occurrence, like when cicadas emerge from the ground once every 17 years. It was a great movie. Would definitely watch again.
Overall, I give Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World 4 out of 5 stars. Thank you, Michael Cera, for continuing to be awesome and getting the hot chicks. You're a hero to us all.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
NFC Champions!!!
GO PACK GO!!!
What a win by the Pack in Chicago to give them a spot in Super Bowl XLV! I almost lost my voice while screaming in celebratory fashion over this play (start at the 1:04 mark). O joyous day! Who would have thought that the Packers' defense would have saved the day and won the game? If you read my last post, you probably would have thought that Rodgers and the offense might have played that role. Don't worry, I thought so, too.While Aaron didn't play a great game, he was still more than effective, especially with that gorgeous bootleg/fake-handoff-to-Kuuuuhhhhhnnnnn-TD-run in the first quarter. (What a play call by McCarthy!) While he didn't throw a touchdown, he still made an impact, distributing the ball (he hit 7 receivers, and Quarless should have had three catches, which would have brought the total to 8; also, Tom Crabtree was targeted at least once) and making things happen on the run (39 yards rushing and a TD). The two INTs wasn't too glorious, although I'll only blame half of the first one on Rodgers, as it went off Driver's fingertips and into the gut of Lance Briggs. But it was a poor, low throw, and Driver couldn't haul it in. So half and half on the blame there.
James Starks had a better day than I thought he would. I didn't think he'd score his first career NFL touchdown, but he did just that in the second quarter to give the Packers a 14-0 lead. I think I called 18+ carries and 60+ yards. Starks finished with 22 carries for 74 yards and a TD. While that's only a 3.4 yard-per-carry average, 22 carries (plus another 10 combined between Rodgers, Jackson and Kuhn) really helped to keep the Bears' defense honest. I think I remember saying 25-30 total rushes or more would mean a Packers victory... or something like that. It's not necessarily the yards you get in the running game; it's the running plays that really make the difference. Even if the opponent is stopping the run well, you're still keeping them honest and opening up the passing game.
Two more offensive points before I get to the best defense in the NFL:
Greg Jennings continued to rip shit up with 8 catches for 130 yards. He was as great as ever, making plays after the catch and not dropping a single pass. Jordy Nelson also played well, with 4 catches for 67 yards. He's the next Wes Welker, in my opinion. He's not a small guy like Welker, but he's a tough white guy who exceeds over the middle. Those kinda guys are hard to come by these days.
The Packers' defense was really the MVP of the game. And Tim Masthay. Eight punts for a 41.8-yard average and 5 inside the 20 (1 touchback that was inches from being downed at the 1, raising the total to 6). And he got enough air on the punts to not give Devin Hester much of a chance in the return game (3 returns for 16 yards). And on his only kick return, Hester gained 24 yards. Easy to say he was kept more than in check all game long. But a helluva game by Masthay. Punters don't get enough credit most of the time. Give credit where credit is due, I say.
But back to the defense. The defense played a great game overall, I think. Granted, they let up 301 total yards of offense, but Caleb Hanie threw for 153 of those yards. The Bears gained 107 yards in the fourth quarter, I think due mainly to a heavy dose of the three-man rush Dom Capers sends out to accompany a prevent-style defense. While I don't like this style of defense, and have been bitching about it all season long, the defense bends and bends, but they don't break under it. Still, it's too close for comfort for my liking.
But turnovers were the big factor in this game. B.J. Raji's interception returned for a TD was off the charts! I recall yelling, "B.J. fucking Raji!" and almost spilling my beer, while he rumbled toward the endzone. Tack on Sam Shields' second interception of the game to seal the deal with 37 seconds left, and the Packers come out on top of the turnover battle, 3-2. Defense and takeaways win ballgames. As cliche as the saying is, it's entirely, 120% true.
Now onto the Bears. Ready?
Oh man. There are some bad things to say about the way the Bears' offense played. Their defense played great, but their offense... not so much. Let's start with the offense:
Jay Cutler is a pussy. There. I said it. Have you read the "hate mail" he's gotten on Twitter? My favorite quote is probably that of Mark Schlereth, whom I follow on Twitter, a former offensive lineman for the Redskins and Broncos (1989-2000): "As a guy who had 20 knee surgeries, you'd have to drag me out on a stretcher to leave a championship game!" In my opinion, Cutler deserves all the crap he gets from media, players, former players, and even fans. Word has it that it's a sprained MCL. But still, it's the NFC Championship. It's do or die, life or death. There's no quitting... except if you're Jay Cutler. If not for Caleb Hanie almost pulling a miracle out of his ass, Cutler would be cast in such a darker and more hateful light, fittingly so.
On top of his injury, Cutler played like shit (6/14 for 80 yards and 1 INT). He had one good scramble for 10 yards. He overthrew Hester at least three times by my count; one was a for-sure touchdown. He looked uncomfortable in the pocket the entire time, and I didn't see him set his feet much when he threw the ball.
But there was one big bright spot in the Bears' offense: Matt Forte. If I recall correctly (I'm too lazy to look), I called him to get 60+ rushing yards, 25+ receiving yards, and 1 TD. Forte finished the day with 70 yards on 17 rushes (4.1 average) and 90 yards on 10 receptions (9.0 average), but no TDs. So I called 85+ yards total, with a mental number around 100, and 1 TD. Instead, he compiled 160 yards without an endzone celebration. He was open all day in the flat and over the middle in the passing game, and he was making good cuts and seeing the lanes well in the running game.
Caleb Hanie played a great game, considering the circumstances. I don't know how he missed B.J. "The Freezer" Raji on his INT to him (I mean, he's only 6'2" and 337 pounds), but you never really expect a nose tackle to drop back in coverage. And his interception to Shields at the end was a desperation move on fourth down. You can't expect a third-string QB to come into a championship game and be cool as a cucumber and not get rattled. He went 13/20 for 153 yards with 1 TD and 2 INTs. That's pretty damn good, in my opinion. He only played for a quarter and a half.
Hanie would have had a chance to tie the game had the Bears (presumably Mike Martz) not called the worst play in NFC Championship history: That stupid end-around to Bennett on 3rd and 1 before the fourth-down interception by Shields that was the proverbial dagger. I mean, seriously, what...the...fuck? Why the hell would you try a trick play with the game on the line with a minute to go?! It's 3rd and 1! Run the damn ball up the middle or do a QB sneak! Horrendous and dumbshit play call.
There was lots of talk about the Bears' special teams and return game being a big factor in this game. Well, they were, but not in a good way. They only had 63 yards on 4 kick returns (15.75 average) and 38 yards on 4 punt returns (9.5 average). So, 101 total return yards on 8 returns. That's no bueno. The Packers' biggest weakness has been the return game defensively, and they really stepped it up in this one.
All in all, I think both teams' performances underwhelmed their fans and critics. But a W is a W, and the Packers came out on top with a berth in Super Bowl XLV to face the Steelers. That should be a really good game, and I can't wait! I'll have a preview for you in a week and a half or so. But until then, you get to read me talking about my boring life. Have fun! And...
GO PACK GO!!!
Friday, January 21, 2011
Packers-Bears preview/predictions
Big game coming up this weekend! I guess that goes pretty much without saying, though. What I don't get is why the Steelers-Jets game got the primetime slot, and the Packers-Bears didn't. Everyone and their mothers knows the latter will get better ratings anyway.
Fun fact: In their 91-year history, the Packers and Bears have both made the playoffs in only four seasons. This will be the second meeting between the teams in the playoffs (Bears won in 1941 in the Divisional round, 33-14, en route the the NFL championship). This monumental game has been 69 years in the making. People can say what they want to say about both meetings between the two clubs (split, 1-1), but the truth of the matter is, you can't really gather much about either game.
The first meeting (Bears 20-17) was in Week 3. That's only three weeks into the season. Teams are still forming and gelling at that point. Nothing's concrete. The Bears' offense is completely different now. The Packers are more disciplined. That's just a couple things. I won't go in depth about this game, because nothing in the NFL really starts solidifying until Weeks 6-9 or so.
The second meeting (Packers 10-3) was in Week 17. The Bears had solidified a first-round playoff bye and the #2 seed. They couldn't move up or down, no matter what happened that Sunday, in that game, or around the league. The Bears' offensive gameplan was similar to the first half of the season, where they passed heavily. They've developed a more balanced attack the second half of the season. But in that Week 17 game, the Bears showed an attack very much similar to what they had early in the season. They didn't want to give away anything or give anyone anything worth studying. Granted, they wanted to win that game for pride's sake (hence keeping the starters in all game; lucky Cutler wasn't injured with the beating he took), but the Bears weren't about to go revealing too much for their eventual playoff opponents.
The Packers, on the other hand, almost had to throw everything they had at the Bears in Week 17. It was essentially their first playoff game. Win or go home. That simple. Dom Capers and the defense pretty much released their whole arsenal upon the Bears' offense, whereas the Packers' offense pretty much kept up what they had been doing in previous weeks. Rodgers led the team with rush attempts (7) and yards (21) in that game. No bueno. Gotta give the rock to James Starks more often. Man, I like him... a lot. But I'll get to him in a sec.
So while the Packers barely squeaked out a win and playoff berth against the Bears in Week 17, they did it in sloppy fashion with a sputtering offense. That offense has been clicking again in the postseason, and it's something to be reckoned with. Here's where I get to James Starks:
I like this guy... a lot. In the three games (including playoffs) this season where he's gotten double-digit carries, he's posted 262 yards on 66 attempts, good for 3.97 yards per carry. While that's only above average, at best, take into consideration his yards after contact. While I don't know an exact figure, it has to be pretty good. The guy's always falling forward when he eventually is brought down. His legs are always driving. He'll get hit two yards deep in the backfield and drive/fall forward for a one-yard gain. 2nd and 9 is always better than 2nd and 12. He makes crisp cuts when he changes direction. He seems to read the defense well, and he hits the hole with authority and sans hesitation. I think he'll break 60 yards on Sunday, for sure. He's averaging 89.5 yards per game in two games this postseason, but the Bears' front seven is a daunting task, so I think 60 yards is a success against that group. I think he'll get at least 15 carries, helping set up the pass, which is really where the Packers want to attack the Bears. Not only because we want the game on Aaron Rodgers' shoulders, but because if there's any place the Bears' defense is vulnerable, it's the secondary. Safety Chris Harris's hip flexor (hasn't practiced through Thursday) should be a factor as well.
I'm seeing a pretty balanced passing attack from Rodgers on Sunday, as far as distribution goes. With Starks' 15+ carries, I see Kuhn and Jackson combining for 5-10 carries. I think 25-30 carries or so from the RBs should really keep the defense honest and let Rodgers open things up through the air. While I don't see him completing 31 of 36 like he did against the Falcons, I think 20 completions is more than reachable. Match that with 240+ yards through the air and 2 TDs, and you've got yourself a pretty productive day against a good defense.
While I'd love to see James Starks get his first career touchdown this weekend, I don't really see it happening, unless he breaks off a long run of 15+ yards. I see a 1- or 2-yard punch-in from Kuuuuhhhnnn, though, maybe with B.J. "The Freezer" Raji leading the way again.
I think the outcome of this game lies mostly on the Bears' offensive line. While it's been pretty solid the latter half of the season, it didn't look good in Week 17. I know the Bears didn't run their usual offense in that game, but it's no excuse to let up six sacks. I think if the line can be fairly dominant, the Bears have a great chance of pulling out the victory. If not, I see Cutler getting sacked and rushed and having to force throws, leading to picks, which we all know he's fond of doing. Even with an average effort from the line, I can see Forte surpassing 60 yards rushing, and tack on at least 25 yards receiving, and a touchdown.
I think, with Dom Capers' excellent scheming, the Packers will keep that line guessing and on their heels, leading to at least 4 sacks and 2 interceptions from Cutler. I think he'll toss a TD to Knox, though. He was kept quiet in Week 17, but I don't see a repeat this Sunday. I think he'll be good for at least four catches and 50 yards and that touchdown. Cutler should be good for 220+ passing yards with 1 TD and 2 INTs.
Another game-changing factor here is Devin Hester. While the Packers' biggest flaw is defending punt and kick returns, I think Hester will be kept somewhat in check. I don't see more than 140 total return yards on 4-6 total returns.
We all know turnovers are crucial, and I see the Packers winning the turnover battle. I think the Bears' offensive line will become suspect to the numerous packages and looks the Packers' defense will throw at them. I think that will lead to a long and painful day for Jay Cutler. I also think that the Bears' secondary will be susceptible to the deep and talented receiving corps of the Pack. The only way I see the Bears pulling out a win is if the defense can turn the Packers' offense into a one-dimensional attack, with the help of a great performance out of Hester in the return game. The Packers will succeed with the passing game and good defense, earning themselves a berth in Super Bowl XLV versus the Steelers. I don't know how the Jets have gotten this far, but they're not going any further.
Packers 27, Bears 17
P.S. -
GO PACK GO!!!
Fun fact: In their 91-year history, the Packers and Bears have both made the playoffs in only four seasons. This will be the second meeting between the teams in the playoffs (Bears won in 1941 in the Divisional round, 33-14, en route the the NFL championship). This monumental game has been 69 years in the making. People can say what they want to say about both meetings between the two clubs (split, 1-1), but the truth of the matter is, you can't really gather much about either game.
The first meeting (Bears 20-17) was in Week 3. That's only three weeks into the season. Teams are still forming and gelling at that point. Nothing's concrete. The Bears' offense is completely different now. The Packers are more disciplined. That's just a couple things. I won't go in depth about this game, because nothing in the NFL really starts solidifying until Weeks 6-9 or so.
The second meeting (Packers 10-3) was in Week 17. The Bears had solidified a first-round playoff bye and the #2 seed. They couldn't move up or down, no matter what happened that Sunday, in that game, or around the league. The Bears' offensive gameplan was similar to the first half of the season, where they passed heavily. They've developed a more balanced attack the second half of the season. But in that Week 17 game, the Bears showed an attack very much similar to what they had early in the season. They didn't want to give away anything or give anyone anything worth studying. Granted, they wanted to win that game for pride's sake (hence keeping the starters in all game; lucky Cutler wasn't injured with the beating he took), but the Bears weren't about to go revealing too much for their eventual playoff opponents.
The Packers, on the other hand, almost had to throw everything they had at the Bears in Week 17. It was essentially their first playoff game. Win or go home. That simple. Dom Capers and the defense pretty much released their whole arsenal upon the Bears' offense, whereas the Packers' offense pretty much kept up what they had been doing in previous weeks. Rodgers led the team with rush attempts (7) and yards (21) in that game. No bueno. Gotta give the rock to James Starks more often. Man, I like him... a lot. But I'll get to him in a sec.
So while the Packers barely squeaked out a win and playoff berth against the Bears in Week 17, they did it in sloppy fashion with a sputtering offense. That offense has been clicking again in the postseason, and it's something to be reckoned with. Here's where I get to James Starks:
I like this guy... a lot. In the three games (including playoffs) this season where he's gotten double-digit carries, he's posted 262 yards on 66 attempts, good for 3.97 yards per carry. While that's only above average, at best, take into consideration his yards after contact. While I don't know an exact figure, it has to be pretty good. The guy's always falling forward when he eventually is brought down. His legs are always driving. He'll get hit two yards deep in the backfield and drive/fall forward for a one-yard gain. 2nd and 9 is always better than 2nd and 12. He makes crisp cuts when he changes direction. He seems to read the defense well, and he hits the hole with authority and sans hesitation. I think he'll break 60 yards on Sunday, for sure. He's averaging 89.5 yards per game in two games this postseason, but the Bears' front seven is a daunting task, so I think 60 yards is a success against that group. I think he'll get at least 15 carries, helping set up the pass, which is really where the Packers want to attack the Bears. Not only because we want the game on Aaron Rodgers' shoulders, but because if there's any place the Bears' defense is vulnerable, it's the secondary. Safety Chris Harris's hip flexor (hasn't practiced through Thursday) should be a factor as well.
I'm seeing a pretty balanced passing attack from Rodgers on Sunday, as far as distribution goes. With Starks' 15+ carries, I see Kuhn and Jackson combining for 5-10 carries. I think 25-30 carries or so from the RBs should really keep the defense honest and let Rodgers open things up through the air. While I don't see him completing 31 of 36 like he did against the Falcons, I think 20 completions is more than reachable. Match that with 240+ yards through the air and 2 TDs, and you've got yourself a pretty productive day against a good defense.
While I'd love to see James Starks get his first career touchdown this weekend, I don't really see it happening, unless he breaks off a long run of 15+ yards. I see a 1- or 2-yard punch-in from Kuuuuhhhnnn, though, maybe with B.J. "The Freezer" Raji leading the way again.
I think the outcome of this game lies mostly on the Bears' offensive line. While it's been pretty solid the latter half of the season, it didn't look good in Week 17. I know the Bears didn't run their usual offense in that game, but it's no excuse to let up six sacks. I think if the line can be fairly dominant, the Bears have a great chance of pulling out the victory. If not, I see Cutler getting sacked and rushed and having to force throws, leading to picks, which we all know he's fond of doing. Even with an average effort from the line, I can see Forte surpassing 60 yards rushing, and tack on at least 25 yards receiving, and a touchdown.
I think, with Dom Capers' excellent scheming, the Packers will keep that line guessing and on their heels, leading to at least 4 sacks and 2 interceptions from Cutler. I think he'll toss a TD to Knox, though. He was kept quiet in Week 17, but I don't see a repeat this Sunday. I think he'll be good for at least four catches and 50 yards and that touchdown. Cutler should be good for 220+ passing yards with 1 TD and 2 INTs.
Another game-changing factor here is Devin Hester. While the Packers' biggest flaw is defending punt and kick returns, I think Hester will be kept somewhat in check. I don't see more than 140 total return yards on 4-6 total returns.
We all know turnovers are crucial, and I see the Packers winning the turnover battle. I think the Bears' offensive line will become suspect to the numerous packages and looks the Packers' defense will throw at them. I think that will lead to a long and painful day for Jay Cutler. I also think that the Bears' secondary will be susceptible to the deep and talented receiving corps of the Pack. The only way I see the Bears pulling out a win is if the defense can turn the Packers' offense into a one-dimensional attack, with the help of a great performance out of Hester in the return game. The Packers will succeed with the passing game and good defense, earning themselves a berth in Super Bowl XLV versus the Steelers. I don't know how the Jets have gotten this far, but they're not going any further.
Packers 27, Bears 17
P.S. -
GO PACK GO!!!
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Another blog entry!
Anyone who read last night's post might think I'm suicidal or something. But I assure you: I'm not. I'm too much of a coward to take my own life, even if I wanted to. As bad as the bad times get sometimes (holy redundancy, Batman!), the good times make life worth living.
Just think, you can be beaten down and spit on (literally or figuratively, whatever floats your boat), but a smile from that cute girl you like, or a funny joke, can bring you right back up. It's those things we live for. I find it funny that sometimes the littlest of things can mean and/or do so much.
I find a lot of things funny. Helps me cope with the bad things. Helps me deal with my own flaws and problems. Anyone who says I don't have a good sense of humor doesn't know me at all. They might as well be a complete stranger. I'd like to think I have the best sense of humor out of anybody I know. I try to find humor in every facet of life. Even during sad moments, I try to find humor. As cliche as it is, I really do believe that laughter is the best medicine. A good laugh can do wonders for a person's mood and body.
I just enjoy making people laugh, even if it's at my own expense. I know I'm not perfect, but instead of pointing out my flaws and dwelling on them (while I'll admit, I do do this from time to time; who doesn't?), I find humor in them. If you laugh, I've succeeded.
Back to my sense of humor for a wee bit. I have such a wide array of humor. I love anything from toilet humor to witty humor to cheesy humor to sarcasm to puns. I love puns. I might even go so far as to say I'm a very punny person. (Badum ching!) Because of my humor, I can come across as weird or creepy to some people. Those people usually just don't get it. The ones who do get it are the ones worth keeping around. The woman I marry (hopefully one day) will not only be intelligent (nothing sexier than a good brain), but she'll have a great sense of humor. And that's not one of those things that's nice to have; it's a necessity. If your sense of humor sucks, don't waste my time.
Okay, so I just went to go pee, and that broke my train of thought. No bueno. I've decided to actually turn on some tunes now. "Just the Way You Are" by Bruno Mars is first on the list. I've fallen in love with this song. I can't get enough of it.
I think I'm going to start saying what songs come up whilst typing out my entries. That way you can catch a glimpse into my taste in music, and maybe you can discover some new tunes. I'm all about new tunes, as long as they don't suck. "Magic" by B.o.B (feat. Rivers Cuomo) is next up. If you haven't heard B.o.B's unplugged version on MTV, listen now. That whole set was great. Who knew MTV still had good stuff on it? And don't get me started on Jersey Shore. Ugh. I barely made it through one episode, and I lost at least 12 IQ points.
This is starting to get kinda lengthy. Happens a lot, it seems. I just keep rambling and rambling. (The Who - Love Reign O'er Me) Eventually something useful will come from my fingertips.
I really want to talk about the upcoming Packers-Bears NFC title game (GO PACK GO), but I think I'll save that for its own entry. Maybe I'll do that at the end of the week. I'll give my predictions and analyze both teams based on my own knowledge. Of course, if you'd like to discuss with me, I invite you to do so, provided you don't be an asshole (that means you, Bears fans). (Ray LaMontagne - You Are the Best Thing) I'd like good talk with people who know their shit. So no idiots or assholes, please.
Alright, well I'm going to watch Around the Horn from Tuesday and head to bed. More to come later on today, I'd imagine. I've got nothing better to do on my day off. So until next time, umm, bye? Yeah, I guess that works. Bye!
Just think, you can be beaten down and spit on (literally or figuratively, whatever floats your boat), but a smile from that cute girl you like, or a funny joke, can bring you right back up. It's those things we live for. I find it funny that sometimes the littlest of things can mean and/or do so much.
I find a lot of things funny. Helps me cope with the bad things. Helps me deal with my own flaws and problems. Anyone who says I don't have a good sense of humor doesn't know me at all. They might as well be a complete stranger. I'd like to think I have the best sense of humor out of anybody I know. I try to find humor in every facet of life. Even during sad moments, I try to find humor. As cliche as it is, I really do believe that laughter is the best medicine. A good laugh can do wonders for a person's mood and body.
I just enjoy making people laugh, even if it's at my own expense. I know I'm not perfect, but instead of pointing out my flaws and dwelling on them (while I'll admit, I do do this from time to time; who doesn't?), I find humor in them. If you laugh, I've succeeded.
Back to my sense of humor for a wee bit. I have such a wide array of humor. I love anything from toilet humor to witty humor to cheesy humor to sarcasm to puns. I love puns. I might even go so far as to say I'm a very punny person. (Badum ching!) Because of my humor, I can come across as weird or creepy to some people. Those people usually just don't get it. The ones who do get it are the ones worth keeping around. The woman I marry (hopefully one day) will not only be intelligent (nothing sexier than a good brain), but she'll have a great sense of humor. And that's not one of those things that's nice to have; it's a necessity. If your sense of humor sucks, don't waste my time.
Okay, so I just went to go pee, and that broke my train of thought. No bueno. I've decided to actually turn on some tunes now. "Just the Way You Are" by Bruno Mars is first on the list. I've fallen in love with this song. I can't get enough of it.
I think I'm going to start saying what songs come up whilst typing out my entries. That way you can catch a glimpse into my taste in music, and maybe you can discover some new tunes. I'm all about new tunes, as long as they don't suck. "Magic" by B.o.B (feat. Rivers Cuomo) is next up. If you haven't heard B.o.B's unplugged version on MTV, listen now. That whole set was great. Who knew MTV still had good stuff on it? And don't get me started on Jersey Shore. Ugh. I barely made it through one episode, and I lost at least 12 IQ points.
This is starting to get kinda lengthy. Happens a lot, it seems. I just keep rambling and rambling. (The Who - Love Reign O'er Me) Eventually something useful will come from my fingertips.
I really want to talk about the upcoming Packers-Bears NFC title game (GO PACK GO), but I think I'll save that for its own entry. Maybe I'll do that at the end of the week. I'll give my predictions and analyze both teams based on my own knowledge. Of course, if you'd like to discuss with me, I invite you to do so, provided you don't be an asshole (that means you, Bears fans). (Ray LaMontagne - You Are the Best Thing) I'd like good talk with people who know their shit. So no idiots or assholes, please.
Alright, well I'm going to watch Around the Horn from Tuesday and head to bed. More to come later on today, I'd imagine. I've got nothing better to do on my day off. So until next time, umm, bye? Yeah, I guess that works. Bye!
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Been a while.
Ready for some melancholic and self-unappreciative words? Fire away, Cap'n!
I hate myself. I hate my life. I hate what I've become. I hate what I've been. I hate what I will be.
I'm a burnout. There's no way around it. There's no way to butter it up. I'm a waste of space. I've done nothing with my life. I honestly don't see myself doing anything with it either.
I'm 26 years old. At least I can say I've graduated high school with a diploma, and in due time. I've been through one year of college at Carroll College (now University). While it was a fun year, it was a worthless year. I have exactly zero transferable credits. I do, however, have a bond with a few fraternity brothers after I lasted through the tough pledging process. I know 99% of them don't give a shit about me, but a couple do, and those are the ones I still talk to. They're basically just good people I view as friends. Had it not been for pledging, I wouldn't have met them, so I guess I'm thankful for that. Still, none of them would take a bullet for me. I'm just a name, a picture, a story.
But alas, I'm still 26 years old and completely worthless. Okay, maybe not completely. But damn close. I've been single for over three years, so I've got nothing to strive for in the relationship department. I've had three legit relationships. None have lasted more than four months. Two have ended with the "she" part cheating on the "he" part. Not only do I not have success with dating, but it doesn't even seem like it's worth my time. And as invaluable as my time is, I like to think it's even just a little bit valuable. No woman has ever made that time more than just a little bit valuable. As each day passes, I become more and more convinced that the day where a woman can make my time valuable, will never come. I've essentially accepted this. It'll never happen, and I know it. I'm going to be Aunt Pat, except somewhat sociable. But I'll still have the stupid, bullshit stories no one cares about, and I'll ramble on and on, just like I do here in this blog that an entire three people read and don't even give a shit about.
My twin brother left me again to go back to his desolate and unfulfilling life out West. He needs himself some better surroundings, and I hope he takes advantage of the opportunities put forth in front of him. I miss him terribly, but he's supposed to be pursuing his dream, and I hope he pursues and catches that dream. After all, that's why he's out there.
You know, my mom told me I should be my twin brother's motivator. I should be the one to get on his ass about pursuing his dream. And, in turn, he should be my kick-in-the-ass, my motivator. But there's a glaring difference: I won't purse whatever half-assed dream I come up with. We all know it just as sure as we know Paris Hilton is a whore. So my job is to push my twin brother to do what he's set out to do. His job is to push me to do what I'll never do. And what I'll never do is be successful.
See, I'm the smart one in my family. I have the highest IQ. I have the highest test results of any kind. I'm the most knowledgeable and the most intelligent in general. You know what that makes me? The biggest failure. If nobody expects anything from you, you can't let anybody down. But when you've got the best brain in the family, you're expected to be great. All I am is a great disappointment.
I barely graduated high school. I got into the only college I applied to: Carroll College (Carroll University now). I went to Carroll, pursuing a degree in Graphic Communications. I flunked out after a year of hardcore partying. It was a very fun and unproductive year.
After I threw more than $20k down the drain in nine months, I came back home and continued to be a failure, working a low-income job at McDonald's. Not much has changed since 2004. I'm still working a low-income, dead-end job. I have a meniscus tear (I think) in my right knee which I can't even get checked out because I not only don't have insurance, but I haven't the money also. I should have graduated college in 2007 with a bachelor's degree and had a job at Quad Graphics. But instead, it's 2011, and I'm working a job where there's no room to advance or be promoted. I'm at a dead end, and there's plenty I can do about it. But we all know I won't do anything. Why? Because I'm Christopher fucking Lukas, and I'm a fucking burnout who has little will remaining and doesn't give a shit if anyone wants to lend some, because I won't take it.
So there you have it. Me, in a nutshell. Glorious, isn't it?
I hate myself. I hate my life. I hate what I've become. I hate what I've been. I hate what I will be.
I'm a burnout. There's no way around it. There's no way to butter it up. I'm a waste of space. I've done nothing with my life. I honestly don't see myself doing anything with it either.
I'm 26 years old. At least I can say I've graduated high school with a diploma, and in due time. I've been through one year of college at Carroll College (now University). While it was a fun year, it was a worthless year. I have exactly zero transferable credits. I do, however, have a bond with a few fraternity brothers after I lasted through the tough pledging process. I know 99% of them don't give a shit about me, but a couple do, and those are the ones I still talk to. They're basically just good people I view as friends. Had it not been for pledging, I wouldn't have met them, so I guess I'm thankful for that. Still, none of them would take a bullet for me. I'm just a name, a picture, a story.
But alas, I'm still 26 years old and completely worthless. Okay, maybe not completely. But damn close. I've been single for over three years, so I've got nothing to strive for in the relationship department. I've had three legit relationships. None have lasted more than four months. Two have ended with the "she" part cheating on the "he" part. Not only do I not have success with dating, but it doesn't even seem like it's worth my time. And as invaluable as my time is, I like to think it's even just a little bit valuable. No woman has ever made that time more than just a little bit valuable. As each day passes, I become more and more convinced that the day where a woman can make my time valuable, will never come. I've essentially accepted this. It'll never happen, and I know it. I'm going to be Aunt Pat, except somewhat sociable. But I'll still have the stupid, bullshit stories no one cares about, and I'll ramble on and on, just like I do here in this blog that an entire three people read and don't even give a shit about.
My twin brother left me again to go back to his desolate and unfulfilling life out West. He needs himself some better surroundings, and I hope he takes advantage of the opportunities put forth in front of him. I miss him terribly, but he's supposed to be pursuing his dream, and I hope he pursues and catches that dream. After all, that's why he's out there.
You know, my mom told me I should be my twin brother's motivator. I should be the one to get on his ass about pursuing his dream. And, in turn, he should be my kick-in-the-ass, my motivator. But there's a glaring difference: I won't purse whatever half-assed dream I come up with. We all know it just as sure as we know Paris Hilton is a whore. So my job is to push my twin brother to do what he's set out to do. His job is to push me to do what I'll never do. And what I'll never do is be successful.
See, I'm the smart one in my family. I have the highest IQ. I have the highest test results of any kind. I'm the most knowledgeable and the most intelligent in general. You know what that makes me? The biggest failure. If nobody expects anything from you, you can't let anybody down. But when you've got the best brain in the family, you're expected to be great. All I am is a great disappointment.
I barely graduated high school. I got into the only college I applied to: Carroll College (Carroll University now). I went to Carroll, pursuing a degree in Graphic Communications. I flunked out after a year of hardcore partying. It was a very fun and unproductive year.
After I threw more than $20k down the drain in nine months, I came back home and continued to be a failure, working a low-income job at McDonald's. Not much has changed since 2004. I'm still working a low-income, dead-end job. I have a meniscus tear (I think) in my right knee which I can't even get checked out because I not only don't have insurance, but I haven't the money also. I should have graduated college in 2007 with a bachelor's degree and had a job at Quad Graphics. But instead, it's 2011, and I'm working a job where there's no room to advance or be promoted. I'm at a dead end, and there's plenty I can do about it. But we all know I won't do anything. Why? Because I'm Christopher fucking Lukas, and I'm a fucking burnout who has little will remaining and doesn't give a shit if anyone wants to lend some, because I won't take it.
So there you have it. Me, in a nutshell. Glorious, isn't it?
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
I want to tell you a story.
What should I tell you about tonight? I say "tonight" because I haven't gone to bed yet. To most people, this is morning. To me, it's still night. I'm just on a different sleep schedule than most people. I remember when I'd be working by this time, when I was employed by good ol' McDonald's. I'd have to be there by 4am. But you know, I actually liked my 4am-1pm shifts, especially on a Sunday. I still smoked cigarettes back then, so I'd go outside on a cold winter morning and smoke a cigarette and enjoy my coffee just before we opened at 5:00. Granted, I rarely got a customer before 5:30, and maybe two or three in that whole first hour, but I loved it. It's so incredibly peaceful at 5am on a Sunday winter morning.
The last time I experienced such a peaceful and calming morning/night was when I took Willie on a walk about a month (maybe five or six weeks) ago. (Hey look! I'm telling you a story like I wanted to!) It was about 3:30am, and it was snowing a decent amount, but there was only a slight breeze. The air was crisp and the snowflakes big and beautiful. The snow crunched under my boots on the unplowed neighborhood streets. Willie peed on every light pole and shoved his snout into the snow in the grass in people's yards, giving him a cokehead-like look to him. I always walk him around the perimeter of the neighborhood, and this night was no exception. We rounded a corner, just over the halfway point in the walk, and I saw a figure in the snowy road ahead of us, maybe 40-50 yards away. I stopped dead in my tracks. It definitely looked canine. I wondered, "Is that a dog? Coyote? Fox?" Sure enough, it was a coyote. Go figure, seeing how the entrance to the preserved forest where they all reside was 20 yards behind us. The thing was probably returning home.
Willie hadn't noticed it yet, but I sure had. He was too busy sniffing around the curb and grass. But then, almost just as the coyote noticed us, Willie perked his ears and stared directly at the coyote. It's odd, he never barked. Just stared, alert and ears perked, head held high. He stood as tall and erect as he could (please no penis jokes) on all fours. I growled loudly at the pesky coyote, and Willie followed suit. I finally resumed walking, and I made my way closer to this "pest," growling, still with Willie mimicking me. I barked. Willie barked.
Quick side note: Willie is about 50 pounds, a medium-to-large dog. This coyote I'd say was roughly 35-40 pounds. Still, Willie would play with it before trying to fight it or defend himself.
So, Doogins and I kept making our way toward this coyote. I made as much noise as I could, barking and growling, and still, Willie followed suit. It's odd, because he only did it when I did. The coyote ran in a big, swooping half-circle through the yard to our left and came out of it behind us. Great, I thought. I was hoping it would just continue its original path and slink back into the woods at the end of the road that was behind us.
But no, it decided to follow us. For the next almost-mile, I tried to keep a safe distance without running or showing fear. I consistently growled and/or barked at this coyote, and Willie echoed each time. I kept my head on a swivel, as any high school football coach would tell his players, searching for coyotes to come out from in between houses or behind bushes. I was ready for an ambush. I was ready to protect my pup. But there were no other coyotes, thankfully. For the most part, the one coyote kept a somewhat-safe distance, say 20-30 yards. It got close a few times, probably 10-15 yards, but nothing too threatening. We had to cut the usual walk short, and take an early turn, and another, and then finally through the neighbor's yard behind my house. We had basically followed the coyote's previous tracks for much of the remaining walk. It kept following us, though. Once I got between the two houses behind mine, where the coyote couldn't see us, we ran a good 15-20 yards to distance ourselves until slowing to a walk before the coyote came into view again. It kept following us between the houses and into my backyard. I opened the back door of the garage and let Willie in, then closed the door behind him, leaving myself outside with the coyote.
It was probably 15 yards away, standing there, staring at me, a hungry look in its eyes. I walked toward it with a puffed chest and determined gait to my step. It picked up on my aggressive stature rather well, and trotted into the next-door neighbor's yard. Unphased, I kept walking toward it, pushing it further away from my house and my pup. I barked and growled a few times more, until it had retreated across the street in front of my house, a few doors down the street, more than a safe distance, until I couldn't see it anymore.
As much as the encounter got my blood flowing, I didn't let it unnerve me. I was wearing steel-toed boots, and I was walking my Doogins. Anyone or anything fucks with my Willie, and you can bet I'm right there to back up my pup and fuck shit up. I was ready to kick that coyote's snout right off its face, and I've got some pretty strong and quick legs.
I find it odd that Willie only barked or growled after/when I did. I'm also surprised that I noticed the coyote first. I know dogs' night vision isn't the greatest, but it's better than ours, and it was a semi-dark figure against a white, snow-covered street. I mean, Willie's closing in on 8 years old (come mid-April), but he shouldn't be losing it this early.
All in all, that night was a special one. Not only was the temperature in the 20s (thus rather bearable) and breezy at best, but beautiful snowflakes floated gracefully downward and littered the streets and yards all around me. Factor in the encounter with the unsuspecting (and then curious) coyote, and you've got yourself a decent tale to tell. I hope it was one worth reading. I've told this story previously, but never in so much detail. I like detail.
Okay, so I've got to get better at closing out these entries. Once I know I'm about done with an entry, I just want to finish it. So yeah, until next time, thank you for reading. Good night!
The last time I experienced such a peaceful and calming morning/night was when I took Willie on a walk about a month (maybe five or six weeks) ago. (Hey look! I'm telling you a story like I wanted to!) It was about 3:30am, and it was snowing a decent amount, but there was only a slight breeze. The air was crisp and the snowflakes big and beautiful. The snow crunched under my boots on the unplowed neighborhood streets. Willie peed on every light pole and shoved his snout into the snow in the grass in people's yards, giving him a cokehead-like look to him. I always walk him around the perimeter of the neighborhood, and this night was no exception. We rounded a corner, just over the halfway point in the walk, and I saw a figure in the snowy road ahead of us, maybe 40-50 yards away. I stopped dead in my tracks. It definitely looked canine. I wondered, "Is that a dog? Coyote? Fox?" Sure enough, it was a coyote. Go figure, seeing how the entrance to the preserved forest where they all reside was 20 yards behind us. The thing was probably returning home.
Willie hadn't noticed it yet, but I sure had. He was too busy sniffing around the curb and grass. But then, almost just as the coyote noticed us, Willie perked his ears and stared directly at the coyote. It's odd, he never barked. Just stared, alert and ears perked, head held high. He stood as tall and erect as he could (please no penis jokes) on all fours. I growled loudly at the pesky coyote, and Willie followed suit. I finally resumed walking, and I made my way closer to this "pest," growling, still with Willie mimicking me. I barked. Willie barked.
Quick side note: Willie is about 50 pounds, a medium-to-large dog. This coyote I'd say was roughly 35-40 pounds. Still, Willie would play with it before trying to fight it or defend himself.
So, Doogins and I kept making our way toward this coyote. I made as much noise as I could, barking and growling, and still, Willie followed suit. It's odd, because he only did it when I did. The coyote ran in a big, swooping half-circle through the yard to our left and came out of it behind us. Great, I thought. I was hoping it would just continue its original path and slink back into the woods at the end of the road that was behind us.
But no, it decided to follow us. For the next almost-mile, I tried to keep a safe distance without running or showing fear. I consistently growled and/or barked at this coyote, and Willie echoed each time. I kept my head on a swivel, as any high school football coach would tell his players, searching for coyotes to come out from in between houses or behind bushes. I was ready for an ambush. I was ready to protect my pup. But there were no other coyotes, thankfully. For the most part, the one coyote kept a somewhat-safe distance, say 20-30 yards. It got close a few times, probably 10-15 yards, but nothing too threatening. We had to cut the usual walk short, and take an early turn, and another, and then finally through the neighbor's yard behind my house. We had basically followed the coyote's previous tracks for much of the remaining walk. It kept following us, though. Once I got between the two houses behind mine, where the coyote couldn't see us, we ran a good 15-20 yards to distance ourselves until slowing to a walk before the coyote came into view again. It kept following us between the houses and into my backyard. I opened the back door of the garage and let Willie in, then closed the door behind him, leaving myself outside with the coyote.
It was probably 15 yards away, standing there, staring at me, a hungry look in its eyes. I walked toward it with a puffed chest and determined gait to my step. It picked up on my aggressive stature rather well, and trotted into the next-door neighbor's yard. Unphased, I kept walking toward it, pushing it further away from my house and my pup. I barked and growled a few times more, until it had retreated across the street in front of my house, a few doors down the street, more than a safe distance, until I couldn't see it anymore.
As much as the encounter got my blood flowing, I didn't let it unnerve me. I was wearing steel-toed boots, and I was walking my Doogins. Anyone or anything fucks with my Willie, and you can bet I'm right there to back up my pup and fuck shit up. I was ready to kick that coyote's snout right off its face, and I've got some pretty strong and quick legs.
I find it odd that Willie only barked or growled after/when I did. I'm also surprised that I noticed the coyote first. I know dogs' night vision isn't the greatest, but it's better than ours, and it was a semi-dark figure against a white, snow-covered street. I mean, Willie's closing in on 8 years old (come mid-April), but he shouldn't be losing it this early.
All in all, that night was a special one. Not only was the temperature in the 20s (thus rather bearable) and breezy at best, but beautiful snowflakes floated gracefully downward and littered the streets and yards all around me. Factor in the encounter with the unsuspecting (and then curious) coyote, and you've got yourself a decent tale to tell. I hope it was one worth reading. I've told this story previously, but never in so much detail. I like detail.
Okay, so I've got to get better at closing out these entries. Once I know I'm about done with an entry, I just want to finish it. So yeah, until next time, thank you for reading. Good night!
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
High Life, Ritz crackers and South Park
Well, South Park (the Mormon episode--a great one!) is currently paused, because we all know that I can't multitask very well. And unfortunately, there are three Ritz left in the package, and I refuse to let my fat ass open another package, knowing full well I'll polish off at least half of it. I swear, Ritz are like my crack. Combine them with this delicious cheese spread (sharp cheddar made by Merkts--a Wisconsin product, of course), and I'm in heaven. Of course, it's all washed down with some good ole quality Miller High Life. In truth, I actually like High Life. I get enough shit for it from friends and family. (Side note: Why is it almost always said "friends and family"? Shouldn't family come first?) I guess I've acquired a taste for it due to the frequency with which I drink it. The truth is, it's cheap. Fifteen bucks gets me thirty beers.
While I get shit from friends and family (family and friends?) for my love of High Life, I still do consider myself somewhat of a beer snob. One of the things that keeps me buying High Life is its reward program. Each beer bought in a twelve-pack (bottles or cans) or more, gets me High Life Extras points. Each beer is worth 10 points. I'm drinking the beer anyway, so I might as well get something out of it, right? To date, I have a Zippo lighter, two High Life patches, two High Life stainless steel beer steins, a "Welcome to the High Life" wooden sign to put up in a rec room or something... I think that's it. I'm saving up for a dart board, complete with wooden case. A bristle board with metal-tip darts, too, not that pussy plastic-tip shit. It's only 24,000 points or so (equivalent of 2400 beers, 80 30-packs, $1200, hahahaha). I have until the end of December 2011, and I'm currently at 14,780 points. That's only 9220 points, 922 beers, 31 cases, $465 to go! I guess I'll use this time to request any High Life points you and/or your friends may have and don't want or need. Email them to me!
Okay, enough about my obsession with getting a dart board and case that I can pay $150-200 for at Sports Authority. But hey, it's a High Life one!
Staying on the beer topic, though, I mentioned earlier how I consider myself a beer snob. High Life is just my day-to-day beer. I splurge every now and then and try out a new six-pack of a microbrew I haven't tried yet. In my last entry (or was it the one before that?), I briefly mentioned how I was just in Montana visiting my twin brother, Mark, who moved out there this past September. Aside from seeing him and some good family friends, I got to try out some great Montana brews. One of the days I was out there, Mark and I trekked about half an hour east to Belt, MT, to pay a visit to Harvest Moon Brewing Company. We sat in their "bar" for a bit, sampling a few beers. The first one I tried was Great Falls Select, an ale, which I thoroughly enjoyed. It's Mark's favorite brew from Harvest Moon. I can't remember the second one I had, but I think it was their winter ale. The third I sampled was Beltian White ale. I ended up getting a growler of that delicious, crisp, sweet Beltian White ale. A growler is a half-gallon of delicious, sudsy goodness. Mark got one of Great Falls Select. We drank great beer that night in the company of good people.
I miss that hairy face of his. Thinking about the good times I had out in Montana with him brings tears to my eyes. He's coming home on Friday, just in time for our birthday on Saturday. Doesn't mean I still miss him like crazy. He's my twin brother, my best friend. Nobody knows me like he does. I'm so incredibly thankful for the wonderful parents I have, for they bought my plane ticket to go visit him for Christmas. They're the best parents anyone could ask for, without a doubt. So Mark's going to be home for ten days, and then he's back out to Montana, and I probably won't see him again until July, and that's just going to kill me. At least I have my family and friends here. He's got a few friends out there, and that's it. The following five and a half months are going to be torture for him. I wish I could be out there. I wish he could be here. I just wish I could see him every day like I used to. I'm not equipped well enough to be without him close by. We just have to persevere, as hard as it will be and has already been. And we have to value the time we have together and not take any of it for granted. I can't wait to see him! Just over three days to go!
This last paragraph was the hardest one I've had to write in my entries thus far. Had to take two breaks to fight off the tears. But I don't want to get all melancholic on you, so I'll leave you on a happy note:
I was introduced to some new tunes tonight, The Rural Alberta Advantage. Check 'em out!
Until next time, kids, good night!
While I get shit from friends and family (family and friends?) for my love of High Life, I still do consider myself somewhat of a beer snob. One of the things that keeps me buying High Life is its reward program. Each beer bought in a twelve-pack (bottles or cans) or more, gets me High Life Extras points. Each beer is worth 10 points. I'm drinking the beer anyway, so I might as well get something out of it, right? To date, I have a Zippo lighter, two High Life patches, two High Life stainless steel beer steins, a "Welcome to the High Life" wooden sign to put up in a rec room or something... I think that's it. I'm saving up for a dart board, complete with wooden case. A bristle board with metal-tip darts, too, not that pussy plastic-tip shit. It's only 24,000 points or so (equivalent of 2400 beers, 80 30-packs, $1200, hahahaha). I have until the end of December 2011, and I'm currently at 14,780 points. That's only 9220 points, 922 beers, 31 cases, $465 to go! I guess I'll use this time to request any High Life points you and/or your friends may have and don't want or need. Email them to me!
Okay, enough about my obsession with getting a dart board and case that I can pay $150-200 for at Sports Authority. But hey, it's a High Life one!
Staying on the beer topic, though, I mentioned earlier how I consider myself a beer snob. High Life is just my day-to-day beer. I splurge every now and then and try out a new six-pack of a microbrew I haven't tried yet. In my last entry (or was it the one before that?), I briefly mentioned how I was just in Montana visiting my twin brother, Mark, who moved out there this past September. Aside from seeing him and some good family friends, I got to try out some great Montana brews. One of the days I was out there, Mark and I trekked about half an hour east to Belt, MT, to pay a visit to Harvest Moon Brewing Company. We sat in their "bar" for a bit, sampling a few beers. The first one I tried was Great Falls Select, an ale, which I thoroughly enjoyed. It's Mark's favorite brew from Harvest Moon. I can't remember the second one I had, but I think it was their winter ale. The third I sampled was Beltian White ale. I ended up getting a growler of that delicious, crisp, sweet Beltian White ale. A growler is a half-gallon of delicious, sudsy goodness. Mark got one of Great Falls Select. We drank great beer that night in the company of good people.
I miss that hairy face of his. Thinking about the good times I had out in Montana with him brings tears to my eyes. He's coming home on Friday, just in time for our birthday on Saturday. Doesn't mean I still miss him like crazy. He's my twin brother, my best friend. Nobody knows me like he does. I'm so incredibly thankful for the wonderful parents I have, for they bought my plane ticket to go visit him for Christmas. They're the best parents anyone could ask for, without a doubt. So Mark's going to be home for ten days, and then he's back out to Montana, and I probably won't see him again until July, and that's just going to kill me. At least I have my family and friends here. He's got a few friends out there, and that's it. The following five and a half months are going to be torture for him. I wish I could be out there. I wish he could be here. I just wish I could see him every day like I used to. I'm not equipped well enough to be without him close by. We just have to persevere, as hard as it will be and has already been. And we have to value the time we have together and not take any of it for granted. I can't wait to see him! Just over three days to go!
This last paragraph was the hardest one I've had to write in my entries thus far. Had to take two breaks to fight off the tears. But I don't want to get all melancholic on you, so I'll leave you on a happy note:
I was introduced to some new tunes tonight, The Rural Alberta Advantage. Check 'em out!
Until next time, kids, good night!
Monday, January 3, 2011
Why is my mind puck-damaged?
I wanted to create a fun and quirky and original name for my blog. If you couldn't gather from the whole "Puck-Damaged Mind" part that I play hockey, then you're probably not too smart. If you figured out that I'm a goalie (without looking at the picture to the right), then kudos to you!
You're probably asking yourself, "Why is he a goalie?" No, you're probably not, but I'm going to tell you anyway.
Back when I was a kid (say 7 or 8 years old), my four brothers and I would play a lot of street hockey. We had lots of shooters and a net, but no goalie to guard that net. I was the only one willing to try it out. Who knew I'd fall in love with the position? Some people say that goalies usually have a few screws loose to be able to let people shoot hard rubber discs at them. To those people, I have only this to say: You're probably right. My friends and family would agree that I'm a little "quirky." I'm just, different. I prefer to think it's a good kind of different. However, it does lead to some weird looks sometimes with some of the things I say or do. I don't know anyone who would disagree with the notion that I'm just a little odd, at the very least. It's hard to spell out my quirks and habits via text on a blog. Many of them you just have to see in person.
I'm getting off track again. This happens a lot.
So here I am, 7 or 8 years old, getting shot at by my brothers and neighbors. I'm equipped with knee pads, a hockey glove for a blocker, a baseball glove, a catcher's chest protector, and no helmet. At least, I don't recall wearing a helmet until I donned a Jason mask later on. A real helmet would come later.
I remember when I got my first set of pads. It was Christmas 1993, and we had just moved to Crystal Lake that summer. All the neighbor kids were boys around my age and the ages of my brothers. We has basically formed a little street hockey league in front of our house before the winter had set in. Until that Christmas, I went out there in my gear (or lack thereof) and did my best to stop pucks. Well, we used tennis balls or street hockey balls made of plastic. So I guess it's safe to say that as a kid, I was pretty good with handling balls. Ha!
So, back to Christmas 1993. I had this big present among the rest of my others. And we all know that the bigger the present, the better the present, right? In that big box were a set of leg pads, a glove and a blocker, all made by Mylec brand. Needless to say, my reaction was probably similar to this. I walked around in those pads all morning.
Come spring, you can bet your ass I was out there stopping pucks or balls or whatever with my brand new Mylec goalie pads! Another thing that happens in spring is the NHL playoffs. We used to listen to Chicago Blackhawks home games on the radio because they were blacked out on TV back then. I watched a Hawks game here or there. But come playoff time, there were 16 teams to watch, and I fixated on the New York Rangers and their stud young goaltender, Mike Richter. Richter backstopped the Rangers all the way into the Stanley Cup Finals that year, against the Vancouver Canucks and their young star, Pavel Bure (pronounced BOOR-ay), also know as the Russian Rocket because of his blazing speed. In Game 4 of the best-of-seven series (which the Rangers led, 2-1), the Canucks were winning, 2-1, when this happened. I still get chills watching that. And I remember it like it was yesterday.
I had already fallen in love with the superb play of Mike Richter throughout the playoffs, but that save right there solidified him as my idol and the Rangers as my team. I wanted to play real hockey, ice hockey. But that day would come much later.
The Rangers went on to win that game and then eventually the series (which went the distance to the seventh game), winning the Stanley Cup for the first time since 1940.
I remember when I got my first actual helmet. No more Jason mask. No more catcher's mask. It was my own goalie mask. I don't remember what color it was, but I do remember painting over it. A goalie's helmet art is a big statement. I have always been obsessed with wolves. I painted a wolf on a cliff howling at a big moon on either side of the helmet. The moon was at the top of the helmet, so there was a wolf on each side howling at the moon in the middle. I was so proud of it. It was my own artwork and my own staple. I wish I had a picture of it. Who knows? I might have one stashed away somewhere.
Who knew that because no one else had the guts (or wasn't crazy enough) to get shot at, I would fall in love with something so fun and so awesome? And if Santa hadn't given me those sweet Mylec pads, who's to say I'd still be playing to this day? And what if the Rangers and Mike Richter hadn't had a stellar run and captured the Cup in the 1994 NHL playoffs? Would I still be doing what I do and love on the ice to this day? Would I be a Rangers fan?
Funny how things work out sometimes.
You're probably asking yourself, "Why is he a goalie?" No, you're probably not, but I'm going to tell you anyway.
Back when I was a kid (say 7 or 8 years old), my four brothers and I would play a lot of street hockey. We had lots of shooters and a net, but no goalie to guard that net. I was the only one willing to try it out. Who knew I'd fall in love with the position? Some people say that goalies usually have a few screws loose to be able to let people shoot hard rubber discs at them. To those people, I have only this to say: You're probably right. My friends and family would agree that I'm a little "quirky." I'm just, different. I prefer to think it's a good kind of different. However, it does lead to some weird looks sometimes with some of the things I say or do. I don't know anyone who would disagree with the notion that I'm just a little odd, at the very least. It's hard to spell out my quirks and habits via text on a blog. Many of them you just have to see in person.
I'm getting off track again. This happens a lot.
So here I am, 7 or 8 years old, getting shot at by my brothers and neighbors. I'm equipped with knee pads, a hockey glove for a blocker, a baseball glove, a catcher's chest protector, and no helmet. At least, I don't recall wearing a helmet until I donned a Jason mask later on. A real helmet would come later.
I remember when I got my first set of pads. It was Christmas 1993, and we had just moved to Crystal Lake that summer. All the neighbor kids were boys around my age and the ages of my brothers. We has basically formed a little street hockey league in front of our house before the winter had set in. Until that Christmas, I went out there in my gear (or lack thereof) and did my best to stop pucks. Well, we used tennis balls or street hockey balls made of plastic. So I guess it's safe to say that as a kid, I was pretty good with handling balls. Ha!
So, back to Christmas 1993. I had this big present among the rest of my others. And we all know that the bigger the present, the better the present, right? In that big box were a set of leg pads, a glove and a blocker, all made by Mylec brand. Needless to say, my reaction was probably similar to this. I walked around in those pads all morning.
Come spring, you can bet your ass I was out there stopping pucks or balls or whatever with my brand new Mylec goalie pads! Another thing that happens in spring is the NHL playoffs. We used to listen to Chicago Blackhawks home games on the radio because they were blacked out on TV back then. I watched a Hawks game here or there. But come playoff time, there were 16 teams to watch, and I fixated on the New York Rangers and their stud young goaltender, Mike Richter. Richter backstopped the Rangers all the way into the Stanley Cup Finals that year, against the Vancouver Canucks and their young star, Pavel Bure (pronounced BOOR-ay), also know as the Russian Rocket because of his blazing speed. In Game 4 of the best-of-seven series (which the Rangers led, 2-1), the Canucks were winning, 2-1, when this happened. I still get chills watching that. And I remember it like it was yesterday.
I had already fallen in love with the superb play of Mike Richter throughout the playoffs, but that save right there solidified him as my idol and the Rangers as my team. I wanted to play real hockey, ice hockey. But that day would come much later.
The Rangers went on to win that game and then eventually the series (which went the distance to the seventh game), winning the Stanley Cup for the first time since 1940.
I remember when I got my first actual helmet. No more Jason mask. No more catcher's mask. It was my own goalie mask. I don't remember what color it was, but I do remember painting over it. A goalie's helmet art is a big statement. I have always been obsessed with wolves. I painted a wolf on a cliff howling at a big moon on either side of the helmet. The moon was at the top of the helmet, so there was a wolf on each side howling at the moon in the middle. I was so proud of it. It was my own artwork and my own staple. I wish I had a picture of it. Who knows? I might have one stashed away somewhere.
Who knew that because no one else had the guts (or wasn't crazy enough) to get shot at, I would fall in love with something so fun and so awesome? And if Santa hadn't given me those sweet Mylec pads, who's to say I'd still be playing to this day? And what if the Rangers and Mike Richter hadn't had a stellar run and captured the Cup in the 1994 NHL playoffs? Would I still be doing what I do and love on the ice to this day? Would I be a Rangers fan?
Funny how things work out sometimes.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
First blog entry!
I finally turned off my TV and turned on some tunes so I can finally get my first blog entry in. Coolio's "Gangster's Paradise" is bumpin' right now. I'm straight thug, yo.
So it's 2011. We're two days into it. I guess it's been pretty decent so far. I hung out with myself on New Year's Eve and didn't even realize it had passed midnight until about 12:10. I guess that can sound kind of depressing, but I like hanging out with myself. That's not to say I wasn't bummed that I hadn't gotten invited to any parties, and there was no way I was going to the bars, especially having just gotten home the day before from a trip to Montana to see my twin brother, Mark, for Christmas.
I had, however, gone out that night I got home from Montana. But that was only because my buddy said he'd buy if I drove. Who would turn that down?! I met this really great and beautiful girl. We hit it off really well, and I got her number before we left. Called her tonight; no answer, left a message. I guess we'll see where it goes from here, but I'm not getting my hopes up. Each time I do, I get let down. I find it's better (although not easier) to not get my hopes up.
Anyway, back to 2011. Yesterday, my godparents were in town to visit my parents and spend New Year's Day and watch the Rose Bowl. Unfortunately, Wisconsin lost due to some very questionable play-calling at the end. We had a great dinner, washed down with Spotted Cow! I love when people from Wisconsin come visit. If you've never had Spotted Cow, and you even kind of like beer, you have to try it. There's a catch, though: You can only purchase it in Wisconsin. It's worth it, though. Anything by New Glarus Brewing Company is worth it. (I also highly recommend Totally Naked and Fat Squirrel.)
I also watched the Winter Classic (annual outdoor NHL hockey game) last night between the Pittsburgh Penguins and Washington Capitals. I run a Facebook fan page where I post updates about NHL games played on NBC. The Winter Classic is the season's kickoff for NHL on NBC. It was a decent game, and Washington won, so that's a good thing. I'm all for watching Sidney Crosby (or Cindy Criesby, as I call him) and the Penguins lose.
The rest of last night was spent making this blog, but I never got around to actually making an entry. I started one, but then my bed was like, "Hey, Chris! Come cuddle with me."
I replied, "Yes, bed. As you wish." And off to bed I went!
That brings us to today. Today was an important day for my beloved Green Bay Packers. Beat the Chicago Bears, and we're in the playoffs. We did just that, and it definitely made my day. So both the Packers and Bears are it in the playoffs. They split their season series, 1-1. I want a rubber match in the playoffs, but that can't happen until the NFC Championship game, based on how the seeding worked out. That would call for a great game! It's what I'm hoping for... and a Packers win in that game!
So I'm sitting here with a Miller High Life (nothing but the best, right?) to my left, all cozy and keeping cold in my Packers coozy. My Packers hat in still on my head, my Sterling Sharpe #84 jersey still on my chest, and my Packers pajama pants still keeping my legs warm. I'm starting to get a little chilly. Maybe I should put my green and gold robe back on.
Seventeen minutes later, I'm back on track to finally finish this up. Damn this ADD. And after I typed that last sentence, I took a ten-second break to dance to "Bad Romance" by Lady GaGa. I'm fucking weird. But hey, I like it!
I'm actually somewhat surprised with myself for how organized this first entry is. My mind works in weird ways. Thoughts are always shooting every which way, and things get random and hard to follow. I urge you to try to keep up. If I jump ship to a new topic all of a sudden, don't fret. I'll come back to the original topic. Maybe.
Alright, I think I've used up enough text and enough of your time here so far. Until next time, folks, I bid you adieu. I leave you with "Jungle Love" by Steve Miller Band working its way through my speakers. Thank you and good night!
So it's 2011. We're two days into it. I guess it's been pretty decent so far. I hung out with myself on New Year's Eve and didn't even realize it had passed midnight until about 12:10. I guess that can sound kind of depressing, but I like hanging out with myself. That's not to say I wasn't bummed that I hadn't gotten invited to any parties, and there was no way I was going to the bars, especially having just gotten home the day before from a trip to Montana to see my twin brother, Mark, for Christmas.
I had, however, gone out that night I got home from Montana. But that was only because my buddy said he'd buy if I drove. Who would turn that down?! I met this really great and beautiful girl. We hit it off really well, and I got her number before we left. Called her tonight; no answer, left a message. I guess we'll see where it goes from here, but I'm not getting my hopes up. Each time I do, I get let down. I find it's better (although not easier) to not get my hopes up.
Anyway, back to 2011. Yesterday, my godparents were in town to visit my parents and spend New Year's Day and watch the Rose Bowl. Unfortunately, Wisconsin lost due to some very questionable play-calling at the end. We had a great dinner, washed down with Spotted Cow! I love when people from Wisconsin come visit. If you've never had Spotted Cow, and you even kind of like beer, you have to try it. There's a catch, though: You can only purchase it in Wisconsin. It's worth it, though. Anything by New Glarus Brewing Company is worth it. (I also highly recommend Totally Naked and Fat Squirrel.)
I also watched the Winter Classic (annual outdoor NHL hockey game) last night between the Pittsburgh Penguins and Washington Capitals. I run a Facebook fan page where I post updates about NHL games played on NBC. The Winter Classic is the season's kickoff for NHL on NBC. It was a decent game, and Washington won, so that's a good thing. I'm all for watching Sidney Crosby (or Cindy Criesby, as I call him) and the Penguins lose.
The rest of last night was spent making this blog, but I never got around to actually making an entry. I started one, but then my bed was like, "Hey, Chris! Come cuddle with me."
I replied, "Yes, bed. As you wish." And off to bed I went!
That brings us to today. Today was an important day for my beloved Green Bay Packers. Beat the Chicago Bears, and we're in the playoffs. We did just that, and it definitely made my day. So both the Packers and Bears are it in the playoffs. They split their season series, 1-1. I want a rubber match in the playoffs, but that can't happen until the NFC Championship game, based on how the seeding worked out. That would call for a great game! It's what I'm hoping for... and a Packers win in that game!
So I'm sitting here with a Miller High Life (nothing but the best, right?) to my left, all cozy and keeping cold in my Packers coozy. My Packers hat in still on my head, my Sterling Sharpe #84 jersey still on my chest, and my Packers pajama pants still keeping my legs warm. I'm starting to get a little chilly. Maybe I should put my green and gold robe back on.
Seventeen minutes later, I'm back on track to finally finish this up. Damn this ADD. And after I typed that last sentence, I took a ten-second break to dance to "Bad Romance" by Lady GaGa. I'm fucking weird. But hey, I like it!
I'm actually somewhat surprised with myself for how organized this first entry is. My mind works in weird ways. Thoughts are always shooting every which way, and things get random and hard to follow. I urge you to try to keep up. If I jump ship to a new topic all of a sudden, don't fret. I'll come back to the original topic. Maybe.
Alright, I think I've used up enough text and enough of your time here so far. Until next time, folks, I bid you adieu. I leave you with "Jungle Love" by Steve Miller Band working its way through my speakers. Thank you and good night!
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