Tightening Up

I just can't stay away from this Cardinals team. They get swept by Houston two weekends ago and everyone starts talking about next year. Fast forward to last night and the Cards beat the Cubs, the Brewers lose to the Reds, the Phillies go down, and all of a sudden the Cardinals are right back in the Wild Card chase. They are too difficult of a team to just let us go in peace and watch baseball without scoreboard watching all evening long. They want me, and others such as myself, to agonize over them for the next three weeks. And you know what? I totally will. Instead of doing all those other awesome things I do in the evening like clean my bathroom (it's amazing how quickly bathrooms become dirty), not make eye contact with people at Noble Park, or cook dinner that could last me approximately 4.7 days, I'll just watch the Cardinals until they are mathematically eliminated. Sure as hell beats watching the Rams anyway.

So I was really tired yesterday morning and I got dressed really quickly. I go to work and put in my 72% productivity and go home. I go to the gym. I run some errands. After I'm done with pretending like I'm busy, I return back to the man palace and prepare for my shower. Well, guess what? What Cale? The entire day I was wearing my boxers inside out. I totally was. I went through the entire day without even a thought that my boxers might not be on correctly. You may think that's gross or just not funny, but that's not the point. It made me think about the one year that I went to camp when I was a kid. I was still pretty young I think. Maybe 5th grade? Anyway, I was a young kid but clearly old enough to not have my initials marked on my underwear by my mother with a Sharpie. Don't think that didn't stop her. So I go to camp, sing funny songs with frog puppets, eat terrible food, kill kids in touch football, and next thing I know it's the end of the week. The entire week I was in a room with a bunch of boys that I didn't previously know. Most of them were from the Chicago area. As I can remember, I got along with all of them. There was one kid, however, named J.D. that was a bit unusual. He was a nice kid, but just a little different. He was totally that kid who just snotted on everything and looked like he was about two meals away from appearing on a Feed the Children commerical. So by the end of the week there was a pair of whitey tighties hanging in the bathroom. Wait. Why do we say pair for underwear? If it's just one article of underwear, then it wouldn't make much of a pair would it? Correction: There were some whitey tighties.. (whitey tighty?) hanging in the bathroom all week. No one bothered to take it off the hanger because boys are gross and we like to smell weird things. So it's Friday and everyone is packing up and I'm trying to field all the little girls' requests for their picture to be taken with me and the only thing left is this underwear just hanging in our bathroom. Our counselor is getting a little annoyed by this and is asking everyone in our room if they know who owns the mystery undergarment. So he asks my little buddy J.D.

Counselor: J.D., is that your underwear in the bathroom? It looks like it's about your size.

J.D.: (Not looking up from his Gameboy) Nope. I already tried them on. They're too saggy.

Counselor: (Looking absolutely disgusted) Oh. That's really gross J.D.


If you were looking for something to wear to show your love, I found the perfect shirt for you. It might be embarrassing how many people you'll start seeing wearing these shirts around. Catch the wave before it passes you by.

Two Minutes For Credit Check

Welcome back. Just to get it out of the way, the midnight showing of The Dark Knight was awesome. I feel like I don't really have to talk about it a lot because it seems as if every movie-goer in America has already seen this film. The thing that everyone perpetually talks about is Heath Ledger's performance. I certainly didn't think the hype was unwarranted. He was amazing. The movie had more of a sinister feel, but I liked the gritty reality of the flick. I'm planning on seeing it again this weekend at IMAX and I'm as excited to see it the second time around.

So an interesting thing happened at this local premiere. For whatever reason there was minimal screen entertainment as people were filing into their seats. Apparently the Cinemark Theatre didn't deem it necessary to let us know for the fifteenth time that Jodie Foster was nominated for an Academy Award for her role in Taxi Driver via the Movie Trivia feature. So I guess people felt the need to entertain themselves. After the wave mercifully failed, I would say at least 27% of the audience started singing the FreeCreditReport.com song. I'm serious. People were really getting into harmonically describing their need to check their respective personal credit statuses. I don't think I'm necessarily making fun of these people, I just don't get the phenomenon. I don't really watch a ton of TV so I guess I haven't allowed the evil of mass marketing geared towards preying on those who might be afraid that they will remain a pirate waiter for the rest of their life reach me yet. Three points for a run-on sentence. I just wish I would have taken the points 4 years ago when the bet was still open that a song about checking your credit report would be available on iTunes.

Things I've been pondering as Zimbabwe sorts out its standard inflation issue. Ya know, like why it costs 10 billion dollars for bus fare.

-Is it funny to anyone else that Punky Brewster is a crusader for the breast reduction movement?

-I can totally understand why people think it's justified that they don't pay taxes. Here is another example.

-Tony LaRussa might be finding a stiffer drink than wine after these last two games against the Brewers.

-I don't even really like the Beastie Boys version of Girls, but Hello Tokyo's remake made me smile.

-I wish I had a dollar for every time I heard "I'm not racist, but..." recently. I would have more dollars than I do now.

-For nostalgia sake, how come no company has come up with a Grandma's House air refresher? I mean, they all smell the same. I don't think it would be too hard.

That's all I got. Later.

None of Your Bees Wax

I told you. I told you. I told you. Yesterday I predicted that Mark Mulder would throw a no-hitter. Well guess what peeps? Mulder didn't allow a hit that entire game last night. Granted, he was knocked out in the first inning after two walks and a possibly career-ending shoulder setback but I was so right. Does that mean I'm now a prognosticator? Because that sounds gross.

Try to go to any college or university in the continental U.S. and have a 5 minute conversation with a girl without her saying "I know, right?". It's impossible. My friend Jordan seems to think this is acceptable for dudes to say as well. He is wrong.

Happy Don't Step on a Bee Day. By the way, have we figured out what was causing all the bees to disappear? Surprisingly, The Happening never explained the answer. I do know that Howard Stern is very concerned about this issue. That's what happens when you have more money than you can possibly spend and you're engaged to a supermodel. You start worrying about bees. I'm worried about filling my car with gas and keeping my character's ERA lower than 1.00 in MLB: The Show.

It bothers me when this exchange occurs:

Know it all: I was watching (a movie) last night. God, I haven't seen that movie in forever.

Dum dum: Oh really? I've never seen that movie. Is it good? I should check it out.

Know it aller: You haven't see that movie? SHUT UP! You really haven't seen it?

Dum dummer: Nope. I think you're so cool that you've seen/heard something that I haven't. Can I buy you a new belt?

Alright, that last part probably doesn't happen. But who cares? This happens more often than you would ordinarily think. Sure, go ahead and suggest something. But don't make the other person feel stupid. Most people don't want to watch or listen to your stupid preferences anyway. I say this as I generally will give out musical suggestions once a week. But feel free to call me a hippie wannabe and suggest that I listen to at least one classic rock album before I tell you the importance of My Morning Jacket. And really, My Morning Jacket isn't that important. Don't let your aspiring local entertainment section newspaper reporter fool you.

But really, it is rather enjoyable to listen to their music.

Later haters.

Listen Up

So welcome to the new site. After all of the complaining about aesthetics and wanting to make sure this blog looks decent, I disregarded all of those notions and decided to just start doing the dang thing. I'm still trying to work out some kinks and hopefully at some point the blog won't look like it's being done by a Gothic 14 year old. Although I assure you that it would certainly be more creative. I'll put up the links on MySpace and Facebook when I post, but this is where you can expect the daily/weekly/however often I feel like it that particular time rants. You heard?

Oh, and I'm using Google Analytics to help track traffic. If you have a blog or website you might want to check it out. Google is way cooler than Excite. Did not see that one coming.

So if you're new to the show, welcome. You can check out old blogs on my MySpace page.

That couple in all those Sonic commercials would probably be a bit more robust if they really ate there all the time.

I've noticed, especially lately, that I really hate when people interrupt. Nothing is more frustrating. Then again, I think I do the same thing. Everyone feels the need to one-up the other in a conversation. Or talk louder. Talking louder is my favorite move. You know a fun game? If someone starts to play the volume shenanigan with you, see how high you can get the decibel level using the see-saw method. Then when the other person is at the peak just get real quiet and enjoy the entertainment. This is especially useful for older people as they won't have to invest in a hearing aid or the extremely creepy Listen Up device. By the way, if you haven't seen the infomercial for the aforementioned product you are really missing out. It's hilarious in a stalker, perverted sort of way.

Anyway, I think that's why two of my best friends are clinical psychologists. They're professional listeners. They let you get the b.s. out of the way and then, and only then do they tell me that I'm an idiot. That's all I want. To have ample time to prove my idiocy.

For those of you who read my blog regularly you know that I'm obsessed with words - the literal meanings, the root of common expressions, spellings. Anyway, we had an office-wide conversation this morning and I need the answer. The saying that sparked the conversation was "I know ____ like the back of my hand." We've all heard that expression. But my question is which side is the back of the hand? I always assumed that meant the top (not palm) side of the hand. It just seemed logical in my head that the palm would be the front because I always was looking at my hand at a downward angle and seeing the back. And since you see that side of your hand most often, I guessed the meaning implied that you know that part of the body pretty well. But what if that side is the front? What if you actually have to turn your hand over to see the back? I guess that would also make sense. The palm has more discernible features. There are lines, fingerprints, often scars. When you hold someone's hand, you see the top of the hand. So wouldn't that make the palm side the back of the hand? Maybe Mick Jagger knows the answer and just isn't telling. But seriously, I have to know.

You can have your "don't put periods in my name anymore" CC Sabathia, Brewers. Enjoy Mr. Harden, Cubs. The Cards have Mark Mulder going tonight! I mean, have you seen Mark Mulder? Jonah Hill thinks he looks like the first time he heard the Beatles. Mulder can pitch 8 innings, ok 3 innings, and still have that hair looking magnificent. That's impressive. I guarantee that intimidates the opposition. He'll probably throw a no-hitter tonight. Actually, the Phillies will probably have negative hits against him. Mark it down. Get it? Mark? I don't crack myself up.

Alright, that's it. Thanks for checking out the new site. Let me know if you have any suggestions or if you know certifiably what side is really the back of the hand. Good day.