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09/24/2012: A night that will live in infamy

via the blog, Acme Packing Company:

If any good comes out of this play -- which was only the worst call in what was almost certainly the most poorly officiated professional sporting event I've ever watched -- it will be the event that forces Roger Goodell to pick up the phone to the professional referees and ask them to name their price. If the Packers had to lose to save the integrity of the NFL going forward, at least this nonsensical game did some good for sport."

via the ESPN NFC North Blog:

I'm sure Packers president Mark Murphy will address the league in some way. But for regional pride, if nothing else, I would love to see the NFL's offices swarmed by Packers shareholders who live in New York City. And how great would it be if 360,000 or so people jammed the phone lines and had their collective voices heard? Wouldn't it be awesome if local ratings in and around Green Bay plummeted Thursday night, the next time the NFL is shown on TV?"

For one of the first times in my life, I'm at a loss of words.



In terms of career success, Josh Hamilton is the best offensive player in his league. Darvin Ham hasn't been heard from in 3 years. As a matter of fact, this very article you're reading, right now, is the only time in recorded history that both Darvin Ham and Josh Hamilton have ever been mentioned in the same sentence before. Ever.

I made a quick chart to compare them:

Somewhere, Chris Berman is jealous that he didn't come up with this nickname himself.With that being said, Darvin Ham was dynamic enough to at least gain some national exposure, in Milwaukee of all places, because of one simple fact.

The dude could dunk.

During one of the few times that the Milwaukee Bucks played a game on national TV in the early 2000s, Darvin Ham stole the ball away from Allen Iverson, ran past Dikembe Mutombo's oblong body, and dunked violently enough that Marv Albert screamed:

Darvin just served Philadelphia a Ham Slamwich."

Since that moment, being a fan of this dude was the only reason I even liked the Milwaukee Bucks, and why I followed his career vigilantly after. (Which meant I had to watch Detroit Pistons games. It sucked.) Naturally, I was a little pissed off when I heard some moron on ESPN referring to one of Hamilton's home runs as a "Ham Slamwich." 

I just realized how incredibly stupid this article is. Enjoy the two videos below. I mean, the dude breaks a glass's pretty badass.

I really can't believe I just spent 35 minutes of my life documenting Darvin Ham's career.


Never again.

People who know me are aware of the fact that I can eat a lot of food. Quite simply, my appetite is nothing short of legendary. Taking this all into account, one would be surprised to hear me complaining about how full I am.

My roommate Eric and I admittedly were lazy tonight, and didn't feel like cooking anything. Since I was pretty hungry, I decided that I was in the mood for some Hunan Beef from Asian Kitchen. If you know me personally, and stalk my Facebook status updates like you should, you'll remember about a month ago me complaining about how I didn't feel so good the following day after eating Asian Kitchen. One would think that I would have learned my lesson. 

Think again. It turns out that I'm a total dumbass, and against my better judgment agreed to this godforsaken meal thinking that the incident a month prior was merely a fluke.

We placed our order, put on some 30 Rock, and patiently waited for our food to arrive. The problem with Asian Kitchen isn't the price of the food, nor the quality. To put it bluntly, the problem with Asian Kitchen is simply this:

They jam way too much fucking food into the Styrofoam deathtraps they call "Dinner Combos."

Again, the food itself was quite tasty, which explains why all 1.5 pounds or so is currently residing inside of my stomach. Not to mention those 2 eggrolls. Eggrolls may look and sound innocent, but I can assure you, those deep fried bastards pack a devastating punch. Moreover, I have a strong suspicion that mixing Duck Sauce with their blend of spices actually "tricks" your mind and body into thinking that you are enjoying your meal, when in fact, with each passing bite you are slowly killing yourself.

Eric and I watched about 3 episodes of 30 Rock tonight. The first 2.5 episodes were enjoyable, and during that time we were having a nice, quiet evening. The last 15 minutes of episode 3 however is a much different story. If you were to walk in, I would have been found sprawled out and moaning in a comatose state across my couch, with my legs in the adjacent chair, and a glass of water in my hand. I literally thought I could feel the hydrochloric acid inside my stomach attempting to digest its own protective lining. 

In closing, I would just like to just say this. I wish no ill-will upon the fine folks who operate Asian Kitchen; what you guys have given to me over the years is nothing short of spectacular. When it comes to value, taste, and reliability, Asian Kitchen is second to none. But in all seriousness, unless I'm completely, utterly, 100% inebriated beyond the likes of which I haven't been in a long time, I'm going to have to look elsewhere for my late night food fix.

I'm tempted to call in "sick" tomorrow, walk to the park, and be the man in the above photograph.


"What the hell is going on up there?!"

My roommate Eric and I have been living at our apartment for a good 4 months or so. Considering the fact that we got a good deal on the place even though we started looking WAY too late, I can't have too many justifiable complaints about the actual apartment.

However, that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to rant about the other tenants who live upstairs.

While they aren't a nuisance, intrusive, or violent, (even though the two dudes wearing trench coats may in fact be fugitives) they do certain things that cause me anger weekly. A few are listed below:

  • Our place is older, so I'm guessing the water heater is shared. This means that there is a possibility of my preferred hot showers becoming blisteringly cold. I accept that. However, EVERY TIME I shower, I have to perform strategic maneuvers to maintain my hot water. Normally I get in there, and it's fine for like 3-5 minutes. Soon after however, I find myself on the other end of the bathtub muttering obscenities.
  • During the course of a given day, the clogging of their boots causes Eric and I each to take a moment to recognize that we may in fact be living below soldiers from the Confederate Army. In the mornings and evenings, which I hypothesize are when they are getting up and coming home from wherever it is they go during the day, the deafening sounds of footsteps is utterly amazing.
  • Late at night, normally around 11:30, we've heard rumblings and commotion the likes of which is only comparable to the stampede from the cinematic classic Jumanji. When I first moved in, I assumed the first few times were them simply arranging furniture. As the weeks added up, I suspected it was my neighbors having wild sex. However, since I haven't encountered a female upstairs before, the only logical and/or plausible solutions I'm left with are that they are either in fact actual animals, or my apartment complex is haunted.

To further illustrate this trend (and also because I wanted to kill some time at work) I made this chart from actual data that I collected last Tuesday.

 Exhibit A

If you look at last Tuesday's data, I have formulated the following scientific models.

  1. Shower use: First of all, they must be the cleanest people on earth. Furthermore, I'm convinced that if I were to take a shower at 4am, they would somehow feel the need to do the same.
  2. Boot clogging: When you take into account the pacing, I may be living below either a novelist experiencing writers block, or a madman conteplating his future injustices.
  3. Miscellaneous Noises: I still have reason to believe that this place is haunted.

In conclusion, these people were obviously raised in a barn.

Exact replication of me taking a shower if I was 40 years old and hairy.





My first (of many) rant(s).

It's 3:30am and I'm sprawled out in my amazingly comfortable bed with a stomach full of cereal. One would think that the next justifiable activity that I would partake in would consist of me drifting asleep and having dreams about unicorns or some such nonsense. Unfortunately for me, instead of unicorns running through my head, I have another childish fantasy engulfing my mind. The truth is, I'm laying here listening to my next door neighbor compare  the breast sizes of his ex-girlfriend and his 3rd grade teacher...LOUDLY. Don't get me wrong, this kind of intellectual comparison is very interesting to me, and normally, I would be all ears. Right now however, I'm more inclined to vandalize his doorway with oversized bras.