For your days at work when “herding cats” just doesn’t cut it.
Often I tell you I don’t have much to report. This is not one of those times.
Since I last updated, I spent an uneventful (for once) Christmas at my sister’s house in Raleigh, NC. The girls got touch iPods for Christmas and seemed to like them pretty well. I got some sweet running gear (thanks Mom and Dad) and my sister and I had an aneurysm in a shoe store and I bought 7 pairs of shoes in 10 minutes. Thanks Lynn, that was fun.
For New Year’s I played some serious Pictionary with Erica and Tatiana. Who knew “earthquake” was such an abstract concept? Much fun was had.
More critically, I was in good shape (for once) for the New Year’s Day Hat. Thanks to the Sultan of Tim for organizing again this year. I showed up at 12:15, about 90 minutes early for a noon start time. Ultimate players know what I mean. Thanks to Rebecca for getting me a coffee and Pat Stoltz for giving back my megaphone and for bringing the handle of Makers. It’s my megaphone. For the first time ever, I had captaining duties (calling subs, telling lies, placing bounties) and it did not really backfire. We (representing Brownsville) won the whole party with major contributions from Scott Arnold, Dave Cheiken, Talesin Thomas and a wide cast of Saturday players. I caught some goals and had a blast. The prize money was split equally.
I went to see Of Montreal at the Highline Ballroom. The show was a good time. Susan Sarandon was nuts but I didn’t take any pictures.
I also need to get off my chest that I’ve had a concept shared with me that I just have to share with you. I can’t take credit for it, but I can’t hide it under my bushel either. We all endorse Flipping the Script, but I’d never heard of using the concept as a noun until a recent and life changing story. Let’s just say that the use of “Script-flipper” as a noun is now so mandatory it hurts. I feel like there are limitless applications, but the most obvious is a game-changing rookie. Think Joe Smash’s first year with PONY. He’s a Script-flipper no doubt. Joe Smash! Skyla Sisco is a Script-flipper. Likely so is John Wall. Genius. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya!
Book Reviews: Over Christmas I finally finished the Mildred Burke Story The thing is (Spoiler alert!) it’s just not that good a story. Aghast! A young, woman in the 50s was manipulated by a man? They all were?!?!?! The book creeps at a snail’s pace through all manner of wresting minutiae (E.g., Then A was in a fixed match with B, then B was in a fixed match with C, then D was in a fixed match with A, then E was in a fixed match with B, B grew up in Louisiana, Louisiana was acquired…). The book is supposedly working towards the greatest female wrestling match of all time, but the payoff match is a snoozer and a disputed draw, depending on which media reports you believe. This, ladies and gentleman, is not Super Bowl 34 coming down to the last play (One Yard Short). This is a series of yawns and disagreements in a fake sport. If anything, it’s a story about the lack of talent representation. Mildred Burke’s life would have been very different in the era of Drew Rosenhaus. I would give this book a pass.
Last weekend, I hosted a UPA coaching clinic led by BVH. It was a bit of work, but a pretty good deal. I got to sit near Linwood, so that’s payment enough. I should be a more ethical coach now, post clinic, or rather I should have less excuse not to be. I'm certified now, so treat me with all the respect that affords me (none).
And where are we now? We are in a coffee shop on 13th street. Two hypnotizing things have just occurred: First, the DB in line in front of me in a European suit and a San Diego accent just ordered a small skinny latte with ‘half an equal’. He’s working on some Michael Bolton hair. Go ahead and splurge Mr. DB. Go ahead and have a full equal packet in your latte. He has looked back at me at just the moment to bust me at laughing at him. He knows I think he is ridiculous. He is unphased.
Only moments and a few feet away I'm settled in at my table for a long session of returning e-mails. The following conversation is observed two tables away:
Business schoolie 1: “So Rap, the music, what does that stand for?”
Business schoolie 2: “what? “
Business schoolie 1: “Rap. What does Rap stand for?”
Business schoolie 2: “uhhhh… well most Rap is about self promotion, and crime… (??!?!?)
Business schoolie 1: “No. RAP. R-A-P. What does that stand for?”
Business schoolie 2: long pause. “ uhhhhhhh. Well, I’m not sure that is an acronym. I think it just means 'talk'.”
Business schoolie 1: “Rant About Parties? Rage Against Parents? Read Aggressive…..”
All that aside, what I really wanted to tell you about in this post was my myriad of fake friends in Knoxville, and my deep appreciation for them:
I love you, fake friend at the Avis/Alamo counter in Knoxville TYS with the Redwings watch. I love how you don’t ask me about the car seat or the GPS anymore, even though I know you are supposed to read the entire script. Just for you, I am going to look up the Red Wings. (9th place in the West? 3rd in the central? Tom Holmstrom looks allright…)
I love my fake friend at the Kroger checkout. Yes, that is a fruit salad and some snow peas again. Now you know that I do not have a Kroger card, and you don’t ask me about it any more. You also please have a wonderful day. Is your hair like that accidentally or intentionally?
I love the hotel room service delivery guy. Yes, ESPN again. Yes, college basketball. Yes, I would like it on the desk again just like every other night. Yes, pasta again. What do you know? I love how you pick up railing on your wife just where you left off the night/week before. (I’m sure you never annoy her at all.) Thanks so much.
I love the Avis rental return guy. Yes! I am back again! Me! Again on Wednesday! Yes, the car was fine thanks. Yes, I would like to leave it on the card. Thanks for the receipt. Thanks, I will do my darndest to have a safe flight, to the extent it is in my control (none).
These are the people that comprise my life; that actually make it much better. Days with them are much better than days without them. It’s a nuanced social contract for the transitory. Don’t give me much, but give it to me every time. Fake friends!
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