Super Bowl Hangover

That "eat healthy" thing I tried to start the other day isn't going so well so far. I can't imagine the pizza rolls were very healthy for me.....or the summer sausage that I kept snacking on......or the potato chips.......or the cookies......you get the idea. They say that the average person consumes 1200 calories during the Super Bowl. I'd be willing to bet I was in the ballpark. Good thing I went for a 3 mile run before the game.


Shame on Grey's Anatomy for making last night's "Code Black" episode a two-parter. If you're going to do that, you need to give people advance warning. I was all jacked up for a resolution, and then they just leave you hanging with Merideth's hand on a bomb in a body cavity. I mean, come on. This isn't Baywatch or Walker, Texas Ranger. Those two shows must have set the record for most two-part episodes. I don't want to wait a whole week to see how they get the bomb out of the guy's chest without it detonating. And that's the damning thing about it.......you know that everything's going to be alright, no major character is going to be killed off, and yet you're still on the edge of your seat. It's like when you watched the movie Miracle. You knew going in that the US was going to win 4-3 on Mike Eruzione's goal with 10 minutes left, and yet you sweated out the last 10 minutes going "holy crap, the Russians could tie this up at any moment!" Damn you Hollywood for playing with our emotions like this.

Well it's about time to start another week at work. I'm on deposit this week, which means I don't have to scramble for work and do crazy side projects as much. I like that. Knowing what your day is going to be like going in. Gives you time to get your mind right.

Wedding boot camp

So tonight Rachel and I went to pick out tuxedos for the wedding. Was actually pretty painless. We kind of knew what we wanted going in, which made it easier. We decided against selecting different tuxes or making color changes between my tux and the groomsmens tuxes, or the ushers or our fathers. It just gets too complicated if everyone needs something different. Plus, I don't really feel the need to stand out from them any more than I already am. I mean, I'm 6'2, my bride-to-be is 5'1" and the priest marrying us is about 5'5. I think I'm going to stick out enough. Basically it's going to look like Chewbacca marrying R2-D2 and having one of those wookie things as our priest.


At one point the girl working at Mr. Formal asked how Rachel and I met. That question still bothers me. We used the ol' "it's a very long story" excuse. She wasn't buying it. She seemed almost pissed off that we didn't want to tell her. (For those of you who don't know how we met, I'd be happy to tell you somewhere a little more private than the WORLD Wide Web. I don't mind if my friends know, but people I don't know still look at me a little weird when I tell them.)

Then little miss full of questions asked if I wanted to get fitted. That's when it hit me.....I've got to wear a tux in a little over 5 months and I still look like a hippo when I get in the bathtub. *DISCLAIMER* I don't really take baths that often, but a hippo in the shower makes much less sense. So now I have to really be serious about working out and eating healthy. So I am asking all of you to help. Be an asshole if you have to, but don't let me eat a whole bag of potato chips in one sitting. If we're eating out....make some comment about how I should get a salad. If I'm playing X-box, pull the plug and throw a pair of tennis shoes at me. Actually, make sure I'm not winning my game before you pull the plug. If I'm winning, I promise I'll go as soon as the game's over. For me to be at my best come July 7th, I need you all to be at your worst up until them. Call me fatty.....I can take it.

Back in the winter of 1978, a farmer named Dale and a former college cheerleader named Louise got busy and nine months later, out popped a beautiful baby boy they named Andrew. On the outside he seemed perfect. And he almost was. But there was one fatal flaw......motivation was a recessive trait in both Dale and Louise, so little 'Roo was born without the motivation gene. I seriously lack it. Hence the seven plus years it took me to get a four year degree. So beat me if you have to. Put a padlock on my fridge. It's for my own good and I know it.

And yes, 'Roo was a Winnie the Pooh reference. I called my mom Kanga I was so into it. I was a very awkward little kid.

Badgered

While browsing oscars.com today, I came across the nominees for best animated short film. There's one called "Badgered." The synopsis says "A beleaguered badger tries to get some sleep."


...........ummm..............

A movie about a grumpy badger trying to get some sleep? Does it star my fiancee? OK, that was a total joke, you know I love you Rachel. In all seriousness, was there a shortage of animated shorts this year? Could I have made a movie about an uppity cow that won't give milk and won an Oscar? Or is this a movie that is brilliant in its simplicity? A beleaguered badger tries to get some sleep. Seems pretty simple. Although any movie you sum up in one sentence is going to be simple. Brokeback Mountain could be described as "gay cowboys struggle with their relationship," or Ice Age as "A mammoth, sloth and sabre tooth tiger come together to help baby human." Given that sentence, the movie sounds absurd. Well, ok, it is absurd. But funny! So I guess I should give Badgered a try. Where can you rent animated shorts, anyways? How does anyone see these?

Update on cigarrette-gate

So Rachel went over to talk to our landlords. She tried to explain that we don't smoke. The landlord said that the butts were found out in the carport. So Sylvia downstairs complained about smoking that was being done at least 20 feet from her apartment, behind a wall. Furthermore, she could not have seen the people smoking and thusly had no reasonable reason to think it was us. My guess it was just some kids who stopped for a smoke break out of the rain. Anyways.....after Rachel made it a point to tell the landlords that it was rude of them to accuse us without even talking to us about it, they told her that Sylvia had complained about us in the past. Rachel asked what about, and was told that Sylvia had said that we had dumped beer off our balcony onto her this summer! Yeah, because we were so mad at the 70 year old retired teacher that we decided to give her a Coors shower. I know what event she is referring to, and what really happened was we dumped water out of our cooler off the side of our balcony into the grass below.......not knowing Sylvia was outside on her porch. The water never came close to hitting her, and we apologized immediately once we realized she was down there. Yet she tries to make it into something like we forced her into a wet t-shirt contest at Platinum. Sylvia doesn't know it yet, but her apartment is now directly in the path of the 5'1" tornado of anger. Batten down the hatches!

Welcome to the Jungle

About two weeks ago, Joel calls me up and goes "dude have you heard that new song where the guy is like 'what you gonna do with all that ass in those jeans?' I love it!!"


I feel like that.....just now discovering myspace. Looks like everyone beat me here, and I can't be like "yo check out this awesome new site I found!" Even my brother, who is less into internet communities than anyone I know, is here. Hell, my fiancee even has a profile here. Which begs the question, "where the hell have I been?"

Rant of the day:

Last night I get home and we have a message on the machine. It's our landlord. She says that our downstairs neighbor brought her cigarette butts and that "we can't smoke anywhere on the property, even the parking lots." She was totally accusing and sounded a little mad at us. Then she says that this is the second time they've had complaints. That's be all well and good, but WE DON'T SMOKE! Perhaps Sylvia downstairs and Marie the landlady should get together and start their own CSI:Corvallis. They seem to have it all figured out. I was willing to just ignore it, but Rachel was kind grumpy when she got home last night, so I think that Briar Ridge Apartments might feel the wrath of a 5'1" 115 pound tornado of anger today. God help them.

When will I grow up?

There's a Jimmy Buffett song where he talks about how he's growing older, not up. That's how I feel. I thought about this as I played basketball last night at OSU, ran home to eat scrambled eggs for dinner, watched American Idol and then played Xbox and Spider Solitaire 'til one in the morning. Now here I am on my break at work writing in an online journal. And you know what? I enjoy all of that. Love it actually. Rachel thinks it's weird that I'm going to be playing video games with our children someday. I think that'll be fun. Some people think it's weird that I play basketball with 18-19 year olds at the rec center every night. They don't seem to mind, as long as I don't suck. Then it's like "why's the fat old guy here?" Lucky for me I don't suck.


The point is, I have no clue what is "age-appropriate" activities are for people in their mid twenties. Too old to play video games and have slumber parties, too young to work on the garden or take kids to soccer practice on the weekends. If anyone knows how I'm supposed to live my life right now, please let me know. In the meantime, we're watching the OC tonight if anyone wants to hang out.

What if?

Just a thought that crossed my mind while reading the tabloids at Winco today:


How funny would it be if Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie named their baby Jennifer? I mean, can you just see this conversation:

Brad: So what should we name her?
Ang: I think Jennifer.
Brad: Uhhhh, honey? Can we just name her something else.
Ang: What are you scared of what people would think?
Brad: You aren't?
Ang: I wore blood around my neck and french kissed my brother.
Brad: Good point. I still think we should name her Cinnamon or Paprika or something, ANYTHING else.
Ang: As God is my witness Brad, we're naming this baby Jennifer. This is happening and there's nothing you can do or say
Brad: OK....can we just have sex now?
Ang: Say 'I want to name the baby Jennifer' first.
Brad: Are you serious?
Ang: SAY IT!!!!!!
Brad: I want to name the baby Jennifer. Please don't hurt me!

I thought this was hysterical.

Another funny thing......Yesterday I was looking at the OSU Beavers website to find the time of the basketball game and there was a big picture of Athletic Director Bob DeCarolis on the page. Rachel goes "Hey I know that guy! He works out at Timberhill. What's he doing on the Beaver webpage?" I'm like "uh...he's the AD," and Rachel gets this shocked look on her face and goes "oh crap!" I ask what's up, and she says "Well, he's always wearing Beaver clothing when he works out, so today I walked up to him and said "so, you're big Beaver fan?" in an attempt to be friendly. I guess that explains the confused look on his face."

That too I found hysterical. That's like walking up to Paul Allen and saying "so you like the Blazers?"

Great stuff!