Friday, July 31, 2009

Article of the Day - Suffering from 'roid rage'

Haven't watched the video, but anything that beats up the (dirty) crimson laundry, I am all for. So, here you go...Ortiz being the catalyst for them getting worn out in their own home paper--complete with a video (that I haven't watched yet, but I imagine it's more of the same).

There is also, of course, a highly valid counterpoint that is being beaten to death in baseball circles (and I happen to agree with the sentiment). It is completely bush that the results of an anonymous test have been leaked to the press...repeatedly. I don't blame the form of media that is in an inescapable death spiral for running with the story in an attempt to make itself relevant again. At this point, though, I have to side with Ozzie Guillen. Just throw the list open and get it over with, so we can all move on.

"If you're going to divorce me, divorce me," Guillen said. "Don't just keep telling me you're going to leave me." <--AP Style (for all you haters out there)



David Ortiz lied to you.

It seems safe to say that his entire Red Sox career is a lie.

And those life-changing Red Sox championships of 2004 and 2007? Are they forever tainted?

You bet. (more)

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Sarah's Top 10

I was going to propose that she submit this as a guest blogger again, but I just posted it myself instead. Here are her top 10 quotes, noises or otherwise obnoxious things the DL says/does repeatedly. Brief DL commentary included for each.

10. You gone. <--also, "You can put it on the booooooooooooard, YES."
9. Wastey (especially when followed by "That is all.") <--usually in a text
8. F-ck my couch. <--or anyone else's
7. Zoo/Circus <--put a tent over it
6. Tie between brrrrrdb and there's that. <--brrrrrrdb...no contest, so there's that
5. Wear it. <--tried and true
4. Good for you. <--we appreciate what you're doing
3. Fire drill <--closely tied to zoo/circus
2. Trrrrrrble <--like my blog
1. Jaaayyss<--courtesy of Grant...gotta cite my source

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

New Link

http://emailsfromcrazypeople.com/

We all have experiences with this. Here is a collection of not just e-mails, but voicemails and all other modes of communication. Here is a direct link to one snippet of the insanity. It's in an e-mail exchange touched off by a letter describing neighbors' complaints about hearing a dog in his apartment.

Money Quote: No. I have a goldfish but due to the air conditioner in my apartment being stuck on a constant two degrees celcius, the water in its bowl is iced over and he has not moved for a while so I do not think he is capable of disturbing the neighbours. The ducks in the bathroom are not mine. The noise which my neighbours possibly mistook for a dog in the apartment is just the looping tape I have of dogs barking which I play at high volume while I am at work to deter potential burglars from breaking in and stealing my tupperware. I need it to keep food fresh. Once I ate leftover chinese that had been kept in an unsealed container and I experienced complete awareness. The next night I tried eating it again but only experienced chest pains and diarrhoea.

http://emailsfromcrazypeople.com/2009/07/28/no-pets-clause/#more-65

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Datsun is...Datsun is...

Holding my car hostage right now. Not only are they violating me for four bills for the two-year service, they are not even being couteous enough to do it quickly.

This blows but is, of course, necessary with the Humboldt trip pending. This is also a test to see if the number of characters mandating this to be sent in multiple texts also means it will be multiple posts on the blog. It's an experiment. If it sucks, sorry and I'll take it down as soon as possible.

ADDENDUM: It worked, so I edited it, and it's staying. Thanks for the comment, Toph. Word.

Friday, July 17, 2009

"And That's the Way it Was"

American journalism lost a legend today. Below is a link to an impressive piece from TV critic Robert Lloyd that not only details what made Walter Cronkite so great but also issues a bitch slap challenge to today's news media.

News in the 24/7 cycle has become commodity. How does one stand out with class and elegance when the whole world is just a constant barrage of information? While we as media professionals struggle to figure that out, we will be doing so under the watchful eye of Walter Cronkite looking down from above. RIP.

The mix of eloquence and authority that the CBS newsman embodied is a far cry from today's anxiety-provoking TV outlets.
By ROBERT LLOYD, Television Critic
5:30 PM PDT, July 17, 2009
For many who grew up in the 1960s and '70s, Walter Cronkite was the voice of unfolding history. On the "CBS Evening News" and on the spot, his eloquent mediation of the great events of an age almost pathologically overflowing with them was essential to the way those events were understood. Even when he was temporarily at a loss for words -- his tears at the death of John F. Kennedy, his inarticulate glee at the moon landing ("Whew, boy!") -- he somehow spoke for the nation he spoke to.

Cronkite was not just a newsman; he was -- like Edward R. Murrow, who brought him to CBS and television -- as close a thing to the idea of a newsman as his age imagined. Except perhaps for Chet Huntley and David Brinkley, his high-powered NBC competition, all TV news anchors, news readers and news reporters, even the most august of them, seemed like variations on his theme, shadows of his Platonic ideal. A decade after his retirement from the anchor's chair, he was still being named the most trusted man in network news. (more)

Thursday, July 16, 2009

More Nostalgia

Last night as I was searching around on the Internet, I stumbled upon the Web site of one Nick Fera. Now, as you all know, I am a terrible novice guitarist, and what many of you probably don't know, I was in a band once. Don't get excited. It was the 2005-2006 school year when I worked at Crespi, and we were the house band/soundtrack to student life--The Bungalows (named for our practice facility). I played the bass because it was handed to me two days before the first event of the year. (Thanks, Coach Muck.)

What I did in this band was irrelevant. What Dom (keyboard), Tony (rhythm guitar) and Coach Muckey (drums) did in this band was irrelevant. The guy who carried us was our lead guitarist (a senior at the time), the aforementioned Nick Fera. Anyway, young Mr. Fera let me know that he is now in a jazz fusion-ish type group called ChromoSphere. They're legit, and as soon as I get word that they're playing a show locally, I am there.

However, I don't know that they really give you a feel for just how well Nick plays a guitar, so check these sound clips from his site. I'm partial to Little Wing (weird) and Long Hard Ride (because it was part of the Bungalows set list).

"All Along the Watchtower" (I think this is the cover U2 did)
"Little Wing" (Jimi Hendrix)
"4 on 6" (Wes Montgomery)
"Long Hard Ride" (Toy Caldwell)

Nick Fera...great musician, and even better dude. Keep up with him on his sites, and the DL will continue to post and tweet with updates on Nick and ChromoSphere.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Viva Las Vegas

So as you my loyal readers know, Toph and I went to Vegas with mom and dad this past weekend. Mom and dad were headed to see a show that is related to one they saw on their recent Hawaiian cruise, so they offered to take us to Vegas, split the hotel cost and let us do whatever the hell we wanted when we got there.

Mom, dad and I rolled out of Burbank at 8, picked Toph up at 9, and we were on the way. Our first stop, was a common one on the way to Vegas. I unilaterally made the decision that it was time for tall boys.

Next stop was Primm, where mom went to feed the slots a bit while Toph and I wandered off to the smoke shop and met the first of what would turn out to be many fascinating people on this trip. We sought out some cigars, since those are Toph and my newest thing for kickback time. The smoke shop owner was a total cougar, but had this weird and disorienting speech pattern that was part the crazy chick from Misery and part Lurch. Pretty sure this chick had smoked everything possible and some things that others wouldn't think were possible. We got our cigars and got out as quickly as possible. Back to the bar at the casino for a pair of silver bullets and then back onto the road.

Just when we thought we were headed downhill to Vegas, we fell victim benefitted from one of those giant road signs in hell Jean. $1 beer, $1 hot dogs. The good people of Nevada benefited from some more of my mom's money on the slot machines, and Toph and I benefited from multiple $1 hot dogs and multiple $1 Blue Moons. Yes...it was dollar drafts and they had freaking Blue Moon. Amazing!

So then, it came time to carry our buzz on to our destination: Vegas. We got to the hotel, kicked back for a bit and then went to dinner with the folks at Famous Dave's...after we got lost an impromptu tour of Las Vegas. After grabbing a 12-pack (of Blue Moon), we headed back to the hotel. Mom and dad got ready for their show. Toph and I got ready to catch the shuttle to the strip. After a brief pregame session, we hit the shuttle and rolled to the strip. Nothing too notable except talking to a gentleman who was from Atlanta and didn't believe Toph and I were brothers. His bad.

The shuttle dropped us off at the Tropicana, and I said goodbye to my friend Brett from Atlanta and Toph and I began our journey. I figured Margaritaville was the most logical place to start a night of drunken shenanigans--except I didn't realize that it was essentially on the opposite end of the strip. So, we stopped by a Corona vendor and got a little something to tide us over until we got there. You'd think that since it was Vegas and it's effing hot, they might have something to circulate the air in bars there? Not the case, as even at the top bar, there was no airflow, so we took our beers to go and went back down the strip.

After wandering for a while, a handful of "Haaaaaaave you met Gabe?" calls, offering an assist to some young ladies trying to all three cram into a picture and catching the water show at the Bellagio, we rolled into Diablos, where we would post up for the rest of the night. We grabbed a couple empty seats at the bar and then went into observation mode.

Across the bar from us were a blonde and a brunette surrounded by guys. Five of them were talking to the blonde. One was talking to the brunette, who had a very clear "seen it all, done it all, not interested" look on her face that I could see plainly across the bar. The one guy in her ear was not deterred. She went to the phone. Not deterred. She poured herself a drink. Not deterred. Because of the setup, Toph and I were looking straight at this and seeing it all.

It was only a matter of time before this girl looked up and I made eye contact with her, glancing from her to him and then back to her with a quizzical look of, "Really? That guy?" She rolls her eyes, shrugs and then laughs and goes back to the phone. The guy stops for a second because she laughed but then gets right back in her ear after she's on the phone. This time when she looks up and I see her, I give a disapproving head shake. She returns with the sad face. I glanced back in his direction, looked back at her and resumed shaking my head.

Now she's intrigued and we proceed to have a 20 minute "conversation" via facial expressions, breaking down everything within our line of sight. Finally the guy figures it out and bails. She grabs her blonde companion, smiles at me and they make a break for it. I had just rained out some guy's game without saying a word. Win.

Once my brunette friend across the bar had left, Toph and I decided to relocate closer to the dance floor. We'd noticed a tall, striking blond (with a very prominent franchise tag) at the bar earlier, and we spotted her again on the dance floor but this time in a large group of girls. She was very clearly the mother hen of the group trying to organize everyone for a picture, so I offered to take it for her so everyone--including her--could crowd around the girl in the tiara and sash and be in it. This, of course, worked perfectly, and Toph and I spent the rest of our outing with the bachelorette party...of girls who were in town from Minnesota.

After a couple drunk calls, the shuttle back to the hotel finally gets there (greatly improving my night, apparently, right Grant?), and we decide it's time to hit the room for a couple more beers to smuggle into the 24-hour bowling alley in our hotel. Once we smuggle our beers past the security guard (who was awesome and had to know we had them but didn't care), we get our lane, get the beers out and realize that we don't have my keys (which contain the bottle opener).

I nominated myself to go back and get them but was unable to find the elevators in my drunken stupor. As I wandered around the casino (all ends of which look EXACTLY the same), I called Toph from my dying phone and told him to keep bowling. Apparently he did and was legit. I finally found the elevators, grabbed a couple more beers and took them down. We crushed all beer involved and split the first two games. Apparently I won the third one. I don't really remember, but Toph was unhappy. We then went out to the casino to smoke our cigars and hit the slots, where I nearly passed out...and lost my hat. Time to stumble up to the room and crash.

Checkout time was noon, so my parents woke us up about 11:45 and we put our stuff together and left. It was only now that I realized I'd lost my hat. Toph and I hit Jack in the Box for some breakfast while mom fed the slots some more. It was puke and rally time, but I can assure you all, J in the B breakfast had never tasted so good. We rolled back to the casino, backtracked our steps and found my hat. And just like that, it was time to go home. Vegas, baby. What a town.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Blast from the Past

Here is the text of the essay that got me into college. All you teachers among my readership, have a look. OK, really just you, Sarah...since this was written when I was in the demographic you now teach. Comments welcome from all, though. Note: this is before I met my brother.

A leaded glass angel with a baseball glove may be a knick-knack for some, but for me it represents love. Love for a game I’ve played nearly all of my life and love for my own “guardian angels”—my family. I believe that the family is the absolute base unit of society, and I am fortunate enough to be able to say that I have been blessed with a family that sets a good example for me to follow.

My father’s words become that little voice in the back of my head telling me that I can conquer the world. He has taught me the virtues of self-motivation and self-reliance. My mother has shown a type of unconditional love that I cannot imagine living without. She is always there for me, and I, in turn, always try to be there for anyone who needs me. I take pride in being able to help others, and I can attribute this quality to the example my mother has set for me. I credit my family environment with making me the person I am today. Together, my ever-supportive parents have taught me innumerable lessons and my angel serves as a constant reminder of them and the impression they have had on me. Every time I look at it, one specific experience stands out in my mind.

The most valuable lesson my family taught me was also the most difficult one for all of us. When I was eight years old, my baseball team was a disaster. Coach Dad was beside himself trying to figure out what we had to do as a team to scratch out our first win of the season, and Mom was growing tired of continually keeping scores of us losing. One Friday night, toward the end of the season, we had our opportunity to snag that elusive win. However, the coach and the scorekeeper had just had a meeting with my third grade teacher in which they were told that I was showing a trend of frequently becoming a “distraction” in class.

Consequently, I was benched for the game. As the late innings approached, I sat there, watching “ball four” and “E6” in an increasingly close game. I, along with my teammates and everyone in the stands, waited for coach dad to put me in, but my name stayed on the bottom of that line-up card—alienated from those of my teammates. The questions, “Why?” and, “What did you do?” came from my friends on the team and hurt more and more each time they were asked. My team lost the game, but that was trivial when put in the context that I wasn’t there for them. I had let the entire team down because of my individual actions.

My parents have succeeded in teaching me many lessons, but this one was, by far, the most effective. By taking away the very thing I loved the most, baseball, they taught me who I am. In watching my dad try to coach a game without a shortstop, I learned how to improvise and adjust to a difficult situation.

In seeing what others thought of his decision not to put me in the game and my dad’s lack of response, I learned how to be determined and stick to a decision, irrespective of outside influence. In watching my team struggle, but never give up, I learned perseverance. Finally, and most importantly, looking back on the situation, I learned that my parents did this out of love—tough love, and, I honestly believe that I am a better person for it.

Monday, July 13, 2009

Song of the Day - "You Dropped a Bomb on Me"

I owe y'all a Vegas recap, and I haven't forgotten, but I'm too lazy to write right now. So, in honor of home run derby and Prince Fielder absolutely crushing balls multiple hundreds of feet further than a human being should be able to, here's the song of the day.



You were the girl that changed my world
You were the girl for me
You lit the fuse, I stand accused
You were the first for me
But you turned me out, baby

You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me (But you turned me on, baby)
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me

You were my thrills, you were my pills
You dropped a bomb on me
You turn me out, you turn me on
You turned me loose, then you turned me wrong

You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me (But you turned me out, baby)
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me

Just like Adam and Eve, said you’d set me free
You took me to the sky, I’d never been so high
You were my pills, you were my thrills
You were my hope, baby, you were my smoke
You dropped a bomb, hey, babe

You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me (But you turned me out, baby)
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me (But you turned me on, baby)

You dropped a bomb on me, baby (Mmm)
You dropped a bomb on me (You dropped a bomb on me, baby)
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me

We were in motion, felt like an ocean
You were the girl for me
You were the first explosion, turned out to be corrosion
You were the first for me
But you turned me out, baby

You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me (Whoa...whoa...oh...oh...baby)
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me (I won’t forget what you done to me, babe)

You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me

I-I-I
I-I-I won’t forget it
I-I-I
I-I-I won’t forget it

You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me

I-I-I
I-I-I won’t forget it
I-I-I
I-I-I won’t forget it

You turned me out, you turned me on
And then you dropped me to the ground
You dropped a bomb on me.

You turned me out, you turned me on
And then you dropped me to the ground
You dropped a bomb on me
You turned me out, you turned me on
And then you dropped me to the ground
You dropped a bomb on me

You turned me out, then you turned me on
You dropped a bomb on me
You turned me out, then you turned me on
You dropped a bomb on me

You turned me out, then you turned me on
You dropped a bomb on me
You turned me out, then you turned me on
You dropped a bomb on me

You turned me out, then you turned me on
You dropped a bomb on me
You turned me out, then you turned me on
You dropped a bomb on me

You turned me out, then you turned me on
You dropped a bomb on me
You turned me out, then you turned me on
You dropped a bomb on me

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Road Show

Road to Vegas


Now playing: 'Dolly Dagger' Jimi Hendrix


"This chick's gonna turn you to a block of ice..."


How apropos for this day.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Two Years Ago...

A lot can change in a couple years. Friends get married. Other friends graduate from school. The first African American president in our nation's history is elected and sworn into office. The freaking Arizona Cardinals make the Super Bowl. You move once twice three times (with a fourth pending). You gain people. You lose people.

Things aren't necessarily better...but they aren't necessarily worse. They're just different.

Living
Two years ago, I lived in an apartment in Reseda with ARob. We'd pretty much just moved out of the house on Lanark, and he already had an eye toward purchasing another house (which, of course, would turn out to be the one on Cohasset). A few months later, we moved into that house, and for a year and a half, it was game on. The keg flowed. The grill sizzled. The music room blasted. It was the party house. Parties, hookups, illegal fireworks, magic shows...it was a little bit of everything.

Then Tania moved back to SoCal, which was awesome, but it was also clearly the beginning of the end of an era.

I love them both to death and am happy that they have each other and are able to share their lives together...but at the same time, once it was time for a ring, it was an implicit eviction notice for me. So the first great craigslist hunt began, and it led me to the apartment in Woodland Hills with my first random roommate. All who know me, know how well I fit in there. So after a month and a half of not being able to freaking stand it, the second great craigslist hunt began. This one led me to the much more amicable living situation (at least for the time being) with Annette and Spuds Frankie. W

Friends
One major driving factor in my decision to move out to Ventura, though, was the fact that I was not going to be on an island out there. I had, of course, the C-Squad. Previous trips I'd made to the VC had been fun adventures, and I figured, 'Why would a move out there be any different?' The one obvious drawback was moving further away from the fam and my valley friends, but as it's turned out, they've been more than happy to follow me out here for weekend shenanigans. And in one case, the follow resulted in a relationship and a desire to take the added step of a complete relocation. Worlds colliding...can be a beautiful thing.

Speaking of serendipitous meetings, there is the random occurrence that led to this friend and I wandering back into each other's lives. Who knew a game at CSUN would become a key turning point in life? Jordt and I had gone over there to see Ollie play and ran into Nick Grant. After a short discussion, we realized that all three of us were living in the valley and had no further plans for later that day. That's how it all started. None of this existed two years ago. W

Family
Nor did anyone at Wade Stadium have any idea that life existed without my brother working there for the summer in some fashion, but then he took the LSAT and moved out west for law school. Now he's "Looking California" but still has days of "Feelin' Minnesota." It's not the ideal close option that we had hoped for, and he'd always been an IM or a phone call away, but now it's coming from the same time zone. Furthermore, for adventures this summer, it's a two hour drive--without the three hour flight in front of it. Love it. Also, while mom and dad are further away (boo), they do love Ventura, so they'll visit (yay). WW <--like sweeping a double header

Work

Another thing my readers know about me is that I spend inordinate amounts of time in my office. With the account shuffling, it's been a struggle to keep up, and I've been on the fringe of burnout for...oh...about four months now. This is the same four months that I've been a Sr. AE. I've been in a constant state of chasing and feeling like I'm drowning. While I haven't caught up per se, I haven't drowned either. I still have the same great guidance and help coming from my superiors at the agency. I do need every day of vacation that I'm taking in the next two months, though. All of it non wedding-related. Thank God. W

So, here you have what are essentially the dimensions in my life. The one gaping void, of course, is a relationship (L). It's just something you just can't chase. You can drive yourself crazy worrying about it, or you can just let it ride. Maybe I'm too laissez faire or overly cynical by approaching it this way, but even when you think you've found the right one and you've got it all figured out, sometimes the rug gets pulled out from under you and its gone. The people who are most important stick around. That's what i found out...two years ago.

Team Hirsh

Dinner Friday with these two...get pumped! Also, if you are not a subscriber/reader to The Hirsh Brothers Blog, you need to shake yourself and get with it. Henceforth, blog tags on the DL will be HBB

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Confucius Say...

No…this is not a reference to my Google chat status from yesterday. Rather, this is the lead-in to another part in a series that hasn’t run in a while.

Sarah did a fantastic job a couple posts ago covering “Things that are Underrated,” and with Canada Day now in the rear view, we’re going to continue with the international flavor. So, without further ado, I give you the next installment of...

Useless, Nebulous Statements from Fortune Cookies

“An unexpected event will soon bring you fortune.” Here’s hoping. Here’s also hoping that fortune is good, as nowhere in this statement is that guaranteed. We’ve all had runs of good and bad luck, but I think if we’re really honest with ourselves, (undoubtedly with a few exceptions) we create our own breaks. Opportunism worked for me in baseball (as a player and as a coach). Gotta keep refining use of it in other contexts.

“Any doubts you may have will disappear early this month.” I have lots of doubts. I doubt the veracity of the statements that come out of baked goods, for example. I doubt the Rangers are going to continue to pitch as well as they have and be in contention in the AL West at the end of the season. I doubt the market will come back to life in the near future. None of these will be disappearing early this month…or next month. You get the idea. Perhaps this is supposed to say “many” instead of “any.” That would be more true to the inexact, anti-absolute formula of most statements that come from fortune cookies, but that that, I would still say, “prooooooove iiiiiiiiiit.”

“Luck will be yours when you least expect it.” Much like the first item, I suppose this could be true, as it doesn’t specify what kind of luck or when it will strike. I could get hit by a car or attacked by a wild animal. If I’m really lucky, maybe I’ll get abducted by extraterrestrials…next Tuesday. Of course, there are also numerous possibilities of good fortune finding me sometime before the end of my life. I could win the lottery or meet the girl of my dreams. Somehow I doubt any of this will happen anytime in the foreseeable future, though. Hopefully that gets cleared up “early this month.”

One thing the Chinese people did get right was pyrotechnics. Everyone in the world, we love us some fireworks, so thanks to them, we have spectacular displays for major events. Of course, the one day that is synonymous with fireworks here in the US is coming up in a couple days. Doubtful I will be posting again before then, as it’s going to be weekend shenanigans starting tomorrow evening. Gotta love Thursday being the new Friday. Happy 4th to everyone! Party like rock stars, but be safe…my readership is abysmal as is…I can’t afford to lose any of you guys!

Happy...

...Birthday to Michelle Moshy! Looking forward to drinks tomorrow night!

...Canada Day!


This is not meant to detract from the great Mosh's birthday festivities, but the DL would be remiss not to post some love for our neighbors to the north on this historic day. I derived this inspiration from my brother's blog, "Looking California, Feeling Canada South Minnesota."

Special shout-out to Adam Hussein, coming at ya live from Edmonton, Alberta. You all know him as "The Hoser" or the continuous victim of racial profiling at Dave & Busters.

¡Viva Canadi!