A little hole

Since Henry died, I have been walking around with a little hole inside me. Sometimes, I will forget that it is there. When I remember, I feel a little ashamed, as though it has become my job to feel bad for the rest of my life. Everyone has to say goodbye to a pet they love. Being able to forget them a little is a mercy. He would have wanted me to go on, do well, be strong.

Sunday morning

Went with A to The York for brunch. I had bacon and eggs with Schiracha sauce. Then we got coffee at the corner. On the way back, we passed the creepy Dora the Explorer.

Walking down by the pier

Just got my fancy new G1 phone.  Takes pretty nice pictures.  Took a walk with A to the ocean, to look at the gulls and our stretched out shadows.  You can see the ferris wheel, there in the distance. Got back home and started shopping for the cheapest auto insurance quotes online with a little success

ow

Standing on the corner of Colorado and Harvey with my bike, waiting for the 7:34 am bus out to the valley. It was a cold ride, but I had on my sherpa hat and hi-tech hobo gloves. It should have been an enjoyable ride, but I had trouble relaxing on account of my aching balls. I have trouble believing that the inventor of a bicycle was a man. It's like having a Keebler elf use my gonads as a punching bag. I don't remember being so aware of my balls, when I rode as a child. It must have something to do with my age. Nowadays, when I ride down the street, I am just thinking "ow ow ow." Probably just need a jockstrap.

tamogotchi

Ai and I are working on singing in harmony. Here is our first song.

A Flock Of Seagulls

Flying into a jet engine ... would produce a sound more ear-pleasing than anything that ever came out of this clown's mouth.

tamogotchi

My first set

My official standup comedy debut

Well, the My standup comedy class is over. All are welcome to come watch me perform my debut "set." Hope to see you there!

3 items of possible interest

1. With a $1300 GPS, we'd avoid many arguments. Let's say 3000. That's only 43 cents to get out of an argument! A bargain.

2. Millions of Americans suffer from constipation. But not me. I think it's fun!

3. Thinking about changing my motto from "tough n' tender" to "oh well!"

En Route To Shark's Cove

It is the morning of my first day in Hawaii. A is taking me snorkeling at Shark's Cove. A insists it's called that, not because it teems with deadly sharks, but because it has jagged rocks reminiscent of shark teeth. I am going, even though I don't believe her 100%. How annoying that I am going to a place named for the very thing I am most terrified of. A has a friend who was attacked by a shark, last year. He was on the TV news and everything. You're probably going to say that makes it LESS likely that I will be attacked by a shark today, but I don't know. A knows a guy that won the lottery and got struck by lightning -- on the same weekend! I hope this is not a goodbye.

acceptable topics of conversation

Many guys think first dates are for spilling their guts all over the table because (the thinking goes) since I'm a hot mess anyway, the sooner she knows about it the better. By "many guys" I am speaking about myself.

Gentlemen, I'm here to tell you that I've made this common-blunder. Far too many times! Perhaps you can learn from my mistake(s). Humans (most humans) are complex creatures, with many facets and, when on a first date, it is vital that your "best foot" be put forward.

Perhaps this concept might best be illustrated via an ancient story! There once was a room that had an elephant in it. Three blind monks stood around the elephant. One held the trunk, while another had his arms wrapped around one of the creatures thick legs. The third poor bastard hung from the tail, his sandal-shod feet barely touching the ground. The master of these blind monks strode into the room and beheld this curious scene. After stroking his beard for a minute or two, and finding some stray food amid the long gray strands, he asked of his students: What is this creature? And where the monk who held the trunk described the creature as flexible and strong, the monk who held the leg disagreed. He declared the creature to be thick and inflexible as an oak. The third monk, who dangled from the tail and was covered with dung had yet another perspective. He thought the creature to be spindly and foul smelling. And so the blind monks began to argue among themselves as to the creature's "true nature". The master listened to their noisy quibbling for a minute or two. While listening, he plucked a few more noodles from his beard. Suddenly he cried: "SILENCE!" The monks fell silent then, cowed by their master's obvious displeasure. The master said: "Listen, you dipshits, never mind that. I just want to know what this fucking elephant is doing inside the temple!"

Later, when those blind monks lay naked on a cold stone floor, covered with welts from the hiding they'd received, two of them nearly came to blows in the pitch dark over the true nature of the creature that had gotten them into so much hot water... this "elephant".

Really makes you go "hm."

Wise up gents. See that foot of yours, the one that is covered with fungus? Thats not your best foot, so don't put it forward! There will be plenty of time for that, down the road. Heed these words! Alot of guys I talk to think its "cool" to talk about shitty dates from the past on a first date. They think: well, since we're here talking about shitty dates, it must mean that we are not on a shitty date ourselves. But this is merely a trick of the mind! Hearken, my lonely brothers! Is it not possible to stand atop a mountain and speak of other mountains? When you speak of other mountains, does the ground beneath your feet disappear? NO! Talking about bad experiences and crazy people from the past in no way innoculates you from having a bad experience at that very moment. In fact it might be inviting those demons in, by opening the door to negativity. Keep the doors shut. Stay mum.

Speaking of Mum, why not talk about how much you love your Mom? If you don't love your mother, talk about a favorite pet. No pets? Don't be an asshole. You know what I mean. Stay positive! And, if you discuss pets, do not discuss the death of said pets, or the behavior of microorganisms (no matter how interesting it is.) Say you saw footage of a beat down on You Tube, or a hyena tearing into a giraffe carcass... These are unsuitable topics for first date conversation! Your political leanings are best left unmentioned until at least the third date, and even then I wouldn't recommend it. Why invite trouble by mentioning the overseas imbroglio our nation finds itself in? Do not bring up the wounds you still carry from high school because she will find you pathetic. And rightly so! Buck up!

You want a job? Here's your job. Your job on the first date is to exude confidence. Think you can manage that, you gutless chump? Have you ever won a raffle? Well close your eyes and remember that feeling. This is the "headspace" you need to be in, if she is to look at you and think that you can provide for her theoretical children. She's looking for winner (i.e. not some pussy who never felt that his father was proud of him or who carries around around the regret of having backed down from a fistfight in hallway E 20 years ago.)

Positivity is KEY!



Now get out there and win her heart!

Follow Friday - hotter than hell edition.

Lately, the stand up comedy class has been consuming my time. It's been a blast. The teacher, Gerry Katzman, is brilliant at inspiring us while keeping the process fun. I'm getting better at speaking in front of the group. It was nervewracking at first but, bit by bit, I'm getting more comfortable. Or maybe it's that I've come to embrace my nervousness. After all, I'm not doing powerpoint -- I'm doing stand up. If I strangle the microphone in my fists and scrunch up my face, maybe it's OK. As long as I can get through the 10 minutes, I don't care. Whatever. I'm so happy that I'm taking steps to force myself on stage. Time to quit being such a chickenshit.

Eventually, I'll put some stuff into a video and post it on here. Not yet though. But the purpose of this post isn't to talk about that because.....

It's Follow Friday!

Here are 5 cool people to follow.

@primalpurge She is brilliant and unpredictable. Follow her today and spice up your feed!

@Dolanite She can be clever and she can be silly. Always cool. Oaktown! Do yourself a favor: Add her.

@Boner_Stabone This guy is inappropriate and fantastic. His killer tweets are not to be missed.

@Atencio Just found out this guy is a writer/director. His tweeting is high-caliber, so I'm gonna check out some of his vids.

@kichaa New find! Just started following the other day, and have been been digging everything, so far. Get on board!

Follow Friday - Independence Day Edition

My summer has officially begun. The ants are back! Regular readers of this blog may recall that I battled them last summer too. But when I wasn't squishing the little bastards, I was enjoying the tweets of these 5 warriors...

@fireland He's doing something very unique with his tweets. At their best, they read like micro-stories. He won't disappoint you.

@lukeinvan I have long admired the tweeting of this bitter Dad. Hat's off! You should add him to your list today.

@rsmallbone I've been following this maniac since I first got on Twitter. Multiple recipient of the Blue Lanugo Medallion For Excellence In Tweeting.

@Zaius13 Somehow this ape man manages to capture something universal and human in his tweets. Follow him now.

@Jim_Hamilton A recent discovery. Was lucky enough to catch his standup show a few weeks ago. Highly recommended.

Batman

I keep pointing to this wall and asking A whether she can see Batman. She says no. Guess it's a boy thing.

Handshake fail

Just ran into a pal at this crappy (so far) rock show. We were both with friends and travelling in different directions, so we only had enough time for a handshake.

He went with "The Pope," while I went with a "Fist Bump.". I wound up punching the palm of his hand.

AWKWARD!

Oh well.

My comedy education

Just started a stand up comedy class, a 10-week boot camp designed to turn me into a standup comedian. Ten weeks from now, I will get up on stage before a room full of strangers and try to win them over with my "set." I am thrilled. I am terrified.

Tonight is easy; I am doing homework. As the sun goes down, I sip a fine Irish whiskey while dictating "premises" into a handheld recorder. These "premises" don't have to be funny; it is more important that they be true. In fact, that's the only thing the matters, tonight.

Look for updated reports on my comedy education by visiting this website on a regular basis.

Feedback

Becoming a better writer is a lifelong journey, and there's always room for improvement. I'm appreciative of anyone who takes the time to let me know how I'm doing. Recently, I've received some feedback in the form of web reviews. There's good news and bad news. Let's get the bad news out of the way.

Although the tone of this review is harsh, it makes some good points. I HAVE neglected my blog for these last Twitter-obsessed months. I do need to include explanatory text with uploaded pics and videos. Regarding the pics: in my defense, I was in the feathery midst of a pillowfight while uploading those images. It was done in the heat of the moment. But that's OK. Message received.

The reviewer's main point is this: I shouldn't talk about Twitter on my blog. It's with this point that I disagree most strongly. She doesn't actually explain why it's "wrong" to talk about Twitter on one's blog; it is put forth as a foregone conclusion.

It's true that, for the last few months, I have been talking a great deal about my latest obsession. But it's not fair to say that's all I've been putting up here. What about the fiction?

Twitter has a place here. More than anything else, it's gotten me excited again about writing online. I would argue that it's tightened up my writing. Writing <= 140 characters has been an invaluable exercise in pithiness. I would also say that it's gotten my writing noticed by the right people. By "the right people," I mean people who appreciate me. They demonstrate that appreciation by following me. Now, when I write something, it gets read. So Twittering has helped my writing in terms of both craft and exposure. I don't view Twittering and Blogging as separate pursuits. I will continue to discuss Twitter on my blog, even if it annoys some people. There is a way that it can fit with my blog, and I am determined to find it.

Fortunately, I fare better in the second review.. This is the good news!

Thanks to @love_bites and @grundy for the feedback.

Follow Friday - Starting a permanent list

@rexhuppke - This joker supposedly writes for the Chicago Tribune. His tweets are golden. GOLDEN!

@maggiemight - More like MAGGIE WILL crack you up. Her stuff always makes me happy.

@slag_mag - Super solid tweets. He's destroying the system from the within. A true tweet warrior.

@kolchak - Prolific and talented. I think he should seriously consider changing his name to "The Mighty Kolchak."

@adamisacson - This guy's stuff is bulletproof. A master of understated comic tone.

@hisnamesLen - He's from NYC, but he's not a dick about it. Criminally under-appreciated. A funny fella. Follow him and you'll see.

Mimmy - part 3

The first thing Hector did was shut off the gas at the side of the house. The second thing he did was call the doctor. Polly bandaged her eyes up while he turned on the TV. Reports of the quake were coming in from all over the city. Hector couldn't get the call to go through. That there was no cell phone reception was no surprise; the electrical grid was down in many parts of the city, and fires were popping up all over.

Polly said "Oh yeah. Mimmy got out."

In all the panic, Hector had forgotten the cat. Rising, he dashed through the home, calling her name.

"I'm telling you. She got out."

"How can you be sure?"

"I see her."

It was then that Polly explained the image that had been seared onto her eyes. It was made up of greenish lines, floating on blackness, and now, with the rumbling having subsided, she had been able to contemplate the image hovering before her.

"I can see read the names of the books in mid air as they fall from the shelves. I can see the expression on your face as you look at me from the safety of the doorway."

"I wanted to run to you, but..."

"And between your legs, I can see Mimmy escaping."

Hector burst from the bungalow and out onto the grounds of Pine Creek Village, the gated community they called home. He ran over the alpine-themed footbridges, along the muddy banks of the chlorinated brooks, overflowing now from broken and spurting water pumps. He ripped through bushes, yelling "Mimmy!" down pathways, growing increasingly desperate. For it was beginning to dawn on him that, if he was unable to find her, she was probably never coming back.

Sometimes in long term relationships it becomes necessary to tell what might be termed "white lies". Mimmy had been one of the small things that Hector and Polly had disagreed upon. Polly believed a cat should be allowed to roam free; Hector did not. It was simple as that. Polly always wanted to throw the windows and doors of the bungalow open, Hector wanted them closed. And so, in order to keep the peace, Hector acquiesced. But secretly, he obtained a bag of something called Silent Roar, which was a powdered lion dung that alot of guys at the gym used to sprinkle into their smoothies, believing it to be a holistic and all natural way to pack on muscle. Hector's idea was that, by sprinkling Silent Roar liberally around the perimeter of the bungalow, he could convince Mimmy through her nostrils that, just outside the door, the apex predator of the savannah prowled. In this way, he was able to simultaneously agree with Polly while protecting his pet.

What he hadn't counted on was the earthquake, which would so terrify the cat that she would race through this "wall of scent" he had erected. Now that she was on the other side of this barrier, his once brilliant-seeming stratagem had, apparently, backfired. Increasingly desperate, filled with dread, he searched until after sunset. Defeated and exhausted, he returned to find Polly on the steps to their apartment. He sat on the steps beside her and, putting his arm around her, pulled her close.

After a while she said, "Did you know that disaster comes from the ancient Greek to mean bad stars?"

"No, I didn't."

“We had earthquakes in Mexico, and right after, my Grandma would make us go out to kneel in the yard and pray. We would be very scared, but then Grandma would point to the sky and show us how the stars were brighter after an earthquake."

Hector looked up. Probably due to the electrical outage, and the lack of light pollution, the night sky did seem brighter than he'd ever seen.

"My Grandma said that it was because God was bending down to listen to our prayers."

"Seems like it would be easier to just not have the earthquake happen in the first place."

Even so, Hector silently mouthed a prayer, to whomever might be listening, that Mimmy would come back.

relaxing

Mention in the Chicago Tribune

One of my joke tweets was included in a Chicago Tribune article about comedians on Twitter.

It was an honor to be mentioned in the same article as a bunch of Twitter big shots.

I wanted to tell my Dad, but I've disappointed the man enough already. He doesn't think I'm funny.

I told my Mom, and the first thing she wanted to know was, "How much are they paying you?" I started to tell her about what an honor it was to have one's work recognized in print, but she didn't seem very interested. Hopefully, this means she won't be following me. If she is, I don't want to know.

T Shirt Contest

There is a T-shirt contest on Twitter that I wouldn't mind winning, since there is $340 prize money. It was originally reputed to be $500, but $160 turns out to be t-shirt credit. Well, that sucks.

But some of my things have gotten nominated. If you want to help me out, maybe you could vote for one or more of my tweets. By voting yes, you're not committing to buy anything; you're just telling the website that you'd like to see the tweet on a shirt.

I think the one I would like to most see on a t-shirt is the one about cubicle slaves. Not because it's the funniest; it's just the best one for a t-shirt. That's just my opinion.

Vote on my nominated Tweets

Here's one fella ready to take on the day

Not sure what he's smoking out of that cigarette. Appears potent.

Big mermaid or baby shark?

Waddlin' Around - King Khan and BBQ Show

unfollowing rampage

I began twittering without a sense knowing what I wanted out of it. I was just another person trying it out. I signed up with some trepidation. I thought "Twitter"? Sounds like "fritter" or "twit". Sounds like the opposite of what I need to be doing. You see, at the time, I was spending HOURS a day playing various word games on Facebook. I already had a way to waste time. But I signed up anyway. Nothing happened. Twitter is not exactly intuitive, is it? A conventionally attractive female with a headset does not pop up and say WELCOME TO TWITTER! Even MySpace had Tom!

I had to figure it out on my own. And so I started following everyone. People followed me back. I started Twittering, and people started noticing me, following me. Etc. When people followed me, I usually followed them back. Eventually, I had a bunch of people following me, but I also had a page that was cluttered with stuff I didn't care about: SEO bullshit, what's in some dude's breakfast burrito, people telling each other "YOU ROCK!"

I'm not saying these people are "Doing it wrong." When people say that, I feel like they miss the WHOLE POINT. One of the most amazing things about Twitter is that you can use it any way you want to. THERE IS NO WRONG WAY.

Everyone has their own answer about how they want to use Twitter. That is the beauty of the whole thing. I love Twitter, and I now feel like I have an idea of what I want to do with it. For me, Twitter is a tool for me to find my people. By that I mean people that appreciate me or that I appreciate. Some day, I would like to stop driving to a windowless room and working with databases. I would like to start making a living by writing. Twitter is going to help me accomplish that.

So it is time to cut back on the amount of people I'm following. I know that this is going to piss some people off, and that it will get me unfollowed. I'm OK with that. If you got unfollowed, try and understand. It doesn't mean that I dislike you. In fact, I still follow many people that dislike. Total assholes! It's just that they manage to do it in a way that is entertaining and/or informative/useful to me.

I probably seem like a one eyed giant, drunkenly staggering across the tundra and clubbing baby seals willy nilly. And yes, I will admit that I am taking a certain amount of delight in all this unfollowing. When I come back to my page, and it's filled only with what interests me, it is delightful. But HEAR THIS: it is a bittersweet delight! It feels like breaking up. Feels terrible at the time. But, afterward, you realize it was for the best. I hope you can see that.

Fiction

Hi.

So I just posted the next little piece of my fiction story, Mimmy. It used to be 35 pages, but I'm trying to rewrite it as a lean and mean 12 page story. Going to throw it up here as I get the parts written. If you see errors, mistakes, things that bug you... please feel free to let me know. I just want it to be good.

Mimmy - Part 2

What they couldn't have planned for was Diffuse Lamellar Keratitis, aka the Sands of the Sahara, a rare syndrome occurring in one out of every 300 laser eye surgeries. Caused by an infection of the cornea, its causes the sufferer to see whorling dustclouds. Polly was to stay home from work for 10 days, keeping her eyes bandaged, so that her tender eyes be allowed to heal. They didn't move the furniture around that week, so blind Polly could feel her way around.

Deep beneath the earth, another transformation was taking place. The tectonic plates beneath the earth had pressed against each other, without release, for too long.

At 9:58 am, March 23, 2013, "The Big One" struck LA.

At 9:58 am, Hector was putting his key into the lock of the bungalow. He was sore from his workout, and felt weak. His first sense of something unusual were the dogs. First in the distance, then closer, until it was on all sides of him -- what seemed the howl of every dog on the earth. He pushed open the great wooden door as the shaking began. This is how Hector happened to be standing in a doorway when "The Big One" struck.

At 9:58 am, Polly bolted upright on the sofa where she lay, looking around despite her bandaged eyes. Everything began falling. Books spilled from the wall, a scrim toppled, and pictures swung on their hooks. Above, the chain of a potted plant snapped, causing the pot to tilt crazily and dump a shower of stones.

Polly called out for Hector, but he remained in the doorway, saying " I think it's an earthquake."

Raising her pale arms to protect herself, Polly replied "Gee, ya think?"

Why Hector remained in the doorway, why he did not run to her, this question would trouble him for many years. He had never been in an earthquake lasting more than a few seconds, and so he kept assuming this one was about over. But the shaking only grew more violent, and he grew more frightened. He stayed where he was as the quake continued - the fast moving and violent P wave, followed by 12 seconds of the slower moving but far more destructive S wave which tore buildings from foundations, toppled freeways, and burst gas mains throughout the city.

On the couch, Polly felt helpless - blind from the bandages and listening to crashes surrounding her. Despite Dr. Blanco's strongly worded warning, she pulled the bandages from her eyes. In that moment, but for only that moment, she could see. The light was too much for her tender eyes, and it seared her corneas with a greenish afterimage of the room. She squeezed her eyes shut from the pain, so that when The Big One finally subsided all Hector heard were car alarms outside and his screaming wife within.

He picked his way through the debris and asked "Are you OK?"

Polly was on the ground, doubled over, covered in plaster dust. "Something is wrong with my eyes."

Saturday

It's strange to be in my office on a Saturday. Usually people are bursting in, waving a sheaf of papers, demanding I DROP EVERYTHING BECAUSE THERE IS A SITUATION. I might even managed to accomplish some stuff today.

That is, if I can quit dicking around on the internet. Twitter, what have you done to me? I can't stop Twittering!

Yesterday was #followfriday. That's when the people who follow you tell the people who follow them - about you. That is, if you're lucky. Yesterday, I was lucky. I am extremely grateful for the all shout-outs I received, and the resultant influx of followers.

Going to try and slow down over the weekend. Would be nice to get some longer writing done. I've been neglecting my blog as well as fiction writing. That needs to change.

Speaking of fiction writing, I'm going to be posting the latest draft of my story up here, in bits as I get it written. Of course, that means it will be appearing in reverse order (ie. Chapter 1 will be below chapter 2 ) because that's how blogs work. Just saying.

I got while listening to David Copperfield (a work originally published in serial fashion) while on my daily commute. Great book but the kid kind of a wuss! Always on the verge of breaking into tears. In all seriousness though: Dickens could have struck out every use of the word "little"; the book would have been just as good and half as long. It's "my little elbows" and "her little petticoat" and a "little red window". Ugh. Pass the barf bag, whydontcha?

Um.

What else?

Oh yeah.

Here's another way I've been wasting time, this morning...

Have you ever wanted to have your very own Diamond Dave doll that would sing excerpts from "Running With The Devil" when you pulled a string? Yeah, me neither. But now that I've fiddled with this Running With The Devil Soundboard a bit, I see there's no need to clutter up my apartment with any more kitschy junk; I can just do it online.

View from the inside the tent

Walked down to the water, but it was too cold to go in. Sat on the sand and watched kids go in. No water too cold for them, apparently. When we returned to the site, nosy gulls were poking around, but we had hidden all the food. There is a lot of wind rattling the walls of the tent. Its making me sleepy. A is reading about food. Did you know that manicotti means little muff? A thinks the pine cones are going to fall down on us. Later, we will light a fire.

Flirting With Magic

via Josh Bearman

But, first

Mimmy - Part 1

Like every other couple, Hector and Polly thought they could be different. They were not going to fall into a rut as their lives became intertwined. No, they would continue to grow, even as they loved one another. So they would surprise each other, by wearing costumes, sneaking up on each other, and by by sleeping on alternate sides of the bed each night. Every week they would rearrange the furniture in the bungalow they shared. The idea was that by, continually changing, they would never fall into a rut, never stop growing, and so keep the fire burning.

At the beginning of the year, they made a deal. They would make a change they had been meaning to make. Polly would finally get her eyes fixed, and Hector would get off performance enhancers. As planned, in the first week of January, Polly got her operation and Hector cut off the juice.

Hector's monstrous body, ready to begin a growth cycle, but starved of the blood boosters, began to feed on itself. Hector began shrinking. He would have to work harder than ever, to prevent becoming lopsided or misshapen as his body adjusted. And he had to do so with a significant dimunition of strength. It was humbling to now be intimidated by weight that six months ago he could have jerked over his head with a smile. Now there was pain etched on his face.

Dodgeball with "The Dads"

I had so much fun playing dodgeball with The Dads on Monday night. I can't wait to do it again. I've been daydreaming about things I want to try.


My knee is still kind of messed up. I'm walking around with one of those knee wrap foam thingamajigs on it. It's keeping the leg straight, and so I'm walking around like a wooden legged pirate. I imagine people feel sorry for me as I limp by. I want to tell them: "It's OK; it's just a temporary injury!"

The smart thing to do would be to go to the hospital. I know what the "smart thing to do" is, yet I don't do it. Not sure what that says about me.

Seems a little better today.
I mean, I can sort of bend it.
I'm fine.

Melissa Stetten was at the game taking pictures, and I was lucky enough to end up in a couple of them. As you can see, she's terrific with a camera, and I highly recommend you check out her photostream.

I was told to get a light blue shirt for the game but, as you can see, I got a shade that was a little brighter than the rest. Probably made me an easier target for enemy balls.



Thanks to Melissa for the nice pictures!

Melissa Stetten's photostream.

About dodgeball

Remember how dismissive I was? Well, as I lay here with a bloody knee, my ass kicked... I take some of that back.

Recruited onto The Dads

Got recruited onto a dodgeball team yesterday. My buddy's in a league and they were a guy short. Even though my "hipster bullshit" meter was registering, I agreed. I haven't played in 20 years. Trying to remember how it works. Is there more than one ball, or what? Studying the rules today. Also have to pick up some tan shorts (part of the uniform). I guess this league is kind of like that movie "The Warriors" ... that is to say : each team has a "theme" that the members are supposed to adhere to. My team is called The Dads. My buddy broke down the Dads concept thusly "We don't talk shit or grab our nuts or act in any way aggressive. We just smile and are good sports." I shouldn't have any problem with that. Shit, I mean, that's more-or-less how I was going to behave anyway!

Sunday morning

Hot Pandesal Now

Nobody Bothers Me - Jhoon Rhee