Smell the Love

Generally speaking, my department at work is not, umm, well respected. We affectionately call our walled-in (or walled-off, depending on your point of view) area of the office "The Leper Colony." It is an appropriate name. I'd explain more, but I don't want to air too much dirty laundry about my job, office politics, etc.

Anyway, we hit a new low today. A senior member of the company has brought his dog into work the past few days. At about 3:00 today, said animal jaunted into our enclosed commune, pissed on the floor, and left. We inquired about the owner's whereabouts and discovered he was in a one-on-one meeting with someone else in our company. Not a huge deal. The owner can come clean it up in 15 minutes or so, right?

Time passes and at about 3:20, the dog comes skipping back into our area and proceeds to poop across about a 10-foot area. My boss decides to take action and slips a note under the meeting room door. Something like, "Hey, your dog took a dump in the middle of our floor. Please come clean it up." Does the embarrassed owner excuse himself from the meeting? Does he come to our area and apologize? No, he looks around the corner, sees the poop, chuckles, and heads back to his closed-door meeting.

Sweet. Thanks. Wow, we really feel important right now.

The positive side of the story is that most of us left shortly after 3:30.

Proof

For all you doubters:

Zapped

I'd love to tell you that Monday night played out in an ideal fashion.

I'd love to hold your hand through a three-game span leading to Ziggy's Zappers as the Shoreview rec champs.

I'd love to explain the karmic, pre-game feeling I received when I heard "Cannonball" by the Breeders.

I'd love to say my brothers and I exorcised the demons of 11 years ago and finally had a successful postseason.

I'd love to feel like I didn't give in to laziness and hunger and get Taco Bell.

Unfortunately, none of these things are true. Ziggy's Zappers fell in the second round of our men's rec league tournament. I was too upset to check the final score, but the Dirty 13th vanquished the ol' men by something like 60-45. I'd love to tell you that the refs cost us the game, but, again, that would be untrue. They probably only cost us about 10 points. Maybe 12. Dirty 13th was the better team on this night

Sigh.

To make matters worse, the Zappers came out looking a bit like jackasses. We are normally one of the more reserved clubs in the league - which isn't a particularly strong statement. That would be like Matthew Fox claiming to be the most successful alumnist from "Party of Five." Anyway, the Zappers exchanged heated words with the refs on more than one occasion (for good reason, darnit!) and eventually earned two technicals. Of course, the 13th spent the whole first half complaining and didn't draw the ire of the zebras...but whatever. They could do no wrong.

Yeah, I'm bitter.

MTV Unplugged

Until about an hour ago, I was under the impression that MTV stopped producing "Unplugged" sometime in the 1990s. Why do I care? Aside from enjoying the show on occasion during my youth, my relationship to music is tied to the show. I believe the 10,000 Maniacs Unplugged was the first CD I ever purchased. (Yeah, feel free to make fun of me.) I became mildly obsessed with the band "Live" after I saw them on the show, and the Eric Clapton Unplugged CD led me to listen to Robert Johnson. And I believe the Unplugged session was really the only time I liked Nirvana.

Anyway, apparently the show is still going strong. In fact, they've had two shows within the past five months. Those artists? Korn and Ricky Martin. Way to go MTV. Always on the cutting edge, huh? Getting those up-and-coming, hot artists?

Legally Blond(e)

"...as if she were playing the role, as a boyfriend once accused her, of the dumb blonde, although she was neither blond nor dumb."

I read across this sentence in "The Lost Painting" last night, and in the interest of time and space, I cut out the first half of the line. Amazingly, the author used five more commas and a dash in the sentence. My internal alarm clock goes off any time I reach the four-comma mark in a single line, and I can't imagine using eight commas and a dash.

But that was pushed aside by the uses of "blonde" and "blond." My memory wasn't working very well following the spring ahead in time, but I thought the second instance should have also used the "e" at the end of word. I made mental note to check today, and here's what I found:

Bartleby: "Blonde is the usual adjective and noun applied to females, blond to males, although the noun blond is occasionally applied to women too."

Englishplus.com: "The words blond and blonde come from the French and follow somewhat the French pattern. Blond (without the e) is used to describe males, mixed gender, or uncertain gender. Blonde refers to women or female gender."

Jonathan Harr could have used either version of blond(e) in either case and been okay, but I believe he chose well. He obviously opted for the sexist "blonde" in the first case and followed up with the neutral, non-sexist "blond." Makes sense to me.

The Quarterback

I think I aged 20 years in the past two days. On Tuesday night, Charles Schwab gave me two tickets to a private suite at the Timberwolves game. 'Twas not a big deal - other than the fact that I haven't been honored in such a way since I was about 12 years old. Back then, I was the smiling kid trailing behind my successful father. They were buttering up him, not me.

On Wednesday, I found out I have people. And I'm their quarterback. Huh? Me?


I have no fewer than six financial advisors, two accountants, two personal bankers, and one lawyer. They're my people. According to them, I'm their quarterback, and I need to coordinate all of them in the name of the team owner - my mom. Yikes.

These people are supposed experts in their fields, and they aren't in charge of one cent that belongs to me. Yet they listen to what I say because my mom pays them to. Me, a guy who knows little about anything outside of fantasy football.

Betwixt you and me, I'm quite intimidated and scared by my task. This is my inheritance. This is what my dad and I talked about in the few, brief moments we had while he was sick. My mom would tell me that my dad is watching over me...and wincing every time I make a mistake or ask a stupid question.

Words I Made Up: Gabbling

Technically, I did not invent the word "gabble," but I think my definition is unique.

Gabble
Function: verb
Etymology: a train in Chicago, January 2007, a mishearing of the word "gambling"
--To use a hard-luck story as a means of obtaining money.

Other forms: gabbler, gabbling, gabbled

"On the way from Midway airport to downtown Chicago, Ted was gabbled out of $20. Ted hopes the gabbler's 10-year-old son got the birthday present he wanted."

March Madness!

March Madness is here, folks. The #5-seeded Ziggy Zappers squeaked out a 74-71 win over the Wolfpack (#12 seed) on Monday night. The Zappers brought their C-level game to the table and fell behind early. But we kept our heads up and fought through cold streaks on the offensive end of the court. The snarlin’, bitin’, scratchin’, fightin’ Wolfpack were led by a Randolph Childress-esque performance by their point guard, who probably had 40 points on the night. In the end, though, the Zappers showed the necessary poise and heart to keep the upset from happening.

Yep, my team is Ziggy’s Zappers, which is named after my high school coach. Zig Kauls has been leading Mounds View basketball for about 42 years, and most of my teammates attended that fine institution with me. Our victory came after #7 Lights Out took down #2 Boston Scientific and #8 Just The Tip upset #1 Ice. Yep, the top two seeds were knocked out early, which leaves hope for the remaining club.

The Zappers are now set to face the fourth-ranked Dirty 13th squad next Monday at 6:30. If we win that game, we’ll take on Just The Tip at 7:30. If we emerge victorious yet again, we play the championship match at 8:30. Can the Zappers’ old guys handle three games in a row?

Who knows? We’re just taking it one game at a time. Good Lord willing. 110 percent.

Oh, and check out the super-advanced Standings page. Sweet technology.

What's spanish for "Get 'Er Done"?

For some reason, ESPN is running today's NASCAR race in Spanish. The English version is on ESPN2. And, as of this moment, I've now watched more NASCAR in espanol over my life than I have in my native tongue.

No, I don't know why.

Hamdog

Karah has recently expressed concern about the lack of greens and variety in my diet. I know I'm not the picture of food pyramid perfection and I know I give in to temptation a little too often, but I'm not altogether upset with my diet. Could I use more broccoli? Sure.

Coincidentally, Mental_Floss posted a blog entry today about the worst foods ever. I've never indulged in any of these delicacies, although I believe there's a restaurant in Arden Hills that serves a version of the hamdog. What's that? In Mental_Floss' words: "Half hamburger, half hotdog, this bad boy is a hot dog wrapped in a beef patty, then deep fried and covered with chili, cheese, onions and topped with a fried egg."

First reaction? My heart hurts.
Second reaction? Hey, why no green peppers? Bacon?

In the right circumstances, I think my dad or brother could have come up with this monstrosity. With the exception of the deep fried part. My father was the type of eater who always mixed the items on his plate - basically no matter what it was. My brother also loves to smash foods together. I've been witness to some odd combinations in my day.

Yes, Karah, worse than mixing peanut butter, jelly, and cheese together in a sandwich...