All I've thought about for a week now is the World Cup. So I have a couple of things to say. First off, the US stood strong against the English, which is awesome. I don’t know about the rest of the world, but I think they’ll win it all. And after the World Cup, they’ll trade in their ball for a bat and win the World Series. Then the World Series of Poker. Then they’ll arm themselves with pistols and take over the world. At that point, only a few can honestly say they were supporters way back when. I will be one of them.
More importantly, with the US only playing about once a week, I need to find some other nations to root for, and I think I’ve got it: North Korea . A bunch of reports are now claiming that their supporters in South Africa are actually just hired Chinese actors. It’s pure silliness, even if it is true, but I love it. It makes me want to hire some fans for myself. I think a supporters group might help me get through the day.
“You can do it!” they would cheer when my work phone would ring. “Oh no!” they would share my agony as another stack of papers is piled on my desk. As my work got monotonous and slow, they would belt out chants to show their support, "Oleeeee Ole Ole Oleeee!" And everyday would end with a standing ovation; I would acknowledge my fans with a raised clap of the hands, then I would remove my shirt and toss it to them as a souvenir. It would be great.
What I like about them even more is something that I’ve only heard once, from a commentator during their game against Brazil . Being on the wrong side of the world diplomacy issues, the players haven’t been exposed to things we take for granted now-a-days. Ipods, cell phones, video games - even television as a form of entertainment is new to them, and while they’ve had some exposure to them they still spend their free time in the same old ways. Namely, Rock, Paper, Scissors. A game they play with such passion and vitriol that games devolve into fits of laughter or chaos.
Rock, Paper, Scissors… I love it. I wish I could be entertained with such basic Good Clean Fun as a game of Rock, Paper Scissors. Maybe all that government censorship and lack of access to this and that has a few upsides to it after all.
After the World Cup though, the US Men’s National Team will destroy North Korea in Rock, Paper, Scissors on their way to world domination.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Thursday, June 10, 2010
The Wiggling Bubble
There’s something bubbling up from the abyss. Yep, bubbles are bubbling up in the quiet lake that will someday have a plaque that reads “John Duffy Ate Lunch Here Often,” rising to the surface in little groups.
I’d never noticed this before, but the roof of the boat house being worked on yesterday, I explored a different area as I ate my apple. The water was very still and the bubbles were pretty easy to spot through the murky water. One had to watch for them though as there was no way to know where the next group would be, but once I spotted them I kind of enjoyed watching the final few feet of their rise to open air. They sort of wiggle their way up.
I have no idea what’s down there though. I have no idea what creates the bubbles. I doubt that there are people or animals down there seeing who can hold their breath the longest. Do fish have gas? And if so, they must have had quite the meal to make that many bubbles. Maybe there are plants down there that create oxygen? I don’t know.
Or maybe the lake is on some geological mystery spot and the Earth is releasing some sort of revitalizing potion that draws me to it five days a week. The lake, perhaps, is calling out to me… with wiggling bubbles.
"There’s something bubbling up from the abyss.” With an opening like that I feel like I should be writing about the Gulf Oil Spill, but I’m not. I’m clearly not fit for true reporting. If I were, I would have gotten to the bottom of all those bubbles. I would have contacts to know who to ask and where to get the scoop, and I would have probably uncovered that the bubbles were from some factory’s pipes buried deep underneath and slowly emitting cadmium and thalagathum, poisoning our waterways.
Sadly, it would not, in fact, be Earth’s revitalizing potion specifically crafted by Mother Nature for me and only me. Ignorance, they say, is bliss. Now, as for that plaque, I prefer bronze.
I’d never noticed this before, but the roof of the boat house being worked on yesterday, I explored a different area as I ate my apple. The water was very still and the bubbles were pretty easy to spot through the murky water. One had to watch for them though as there was no way to know where the next group would be, but once I spotted them I kind of enjoyed watching the final few feet of their rise to open air. They sort of wiggle their way up.
I have no idea what’s down there though. I have no idea what creates the bubbles. I doubt that there are people or animals down there seeing who can hold their breath the longest. Do fish have gas? And if so, they must have had quite the meal to make that many bubbles. Maybe there are plants down there that create oxygen? I don’t know.
Or maybe the lake is on some geological mystery spot and the Earth is releasing some sort of revitalizing potion that draws me to it five days a week. The lake, perhaps, is calling out to me… with wiggling bubbles.
"There’s something bubbling up from the abyss.” With an opening like that I feel like I should be writing about the Gulf Oil Spill, but I’m not. I’m clearly not fit for true reporting. If I were, I would have gotten to the bottom of all those bubbles. I would have contacts to know who to ask and where to get the scoop, and I would have probably uncovered that the bubbles were from some factory’s pipes buried deep underneath and slowly emitting cadmium and thalagathum, poisoning our waterways.
Sadly, it would not, in fact, be Earth’s revitalizing potion specifically crafted by Mother Nature for me and only me. Ignorance, they say, is bliss. Now, as for that plaque, I prefer bronze.
Wednesday, June 09, 2010
World Cup on My Mind
I’ve been a little slow writing this week as my audience is on vacation. (Dad, I hope you’re enjoying Maine). Plus, all of my energy is focused on the quickly approaching World Cup.
I’ve spent the past couple years climbing through the ranks of soccer fan. For a long time, I was on the level of Mild Interest. Then with the purchase of FIFA 2008 for Playstation2, I shot through the lower levels of Casual Observer, Soccer Enthusiast, and Fairweather Fan, and now am somewhere between Soccer Loyalist and I-Call-It-Football Fan.
Unfortunately, I’ve had to sit through a pretty rough start for my hometown team, DC United. I would say that I’ve remained much more optimistic than most DCU fans, and as a result I’ve been sadly disappointed 8 out of 11 games this year. A few key players are healthy again, so things are looking up. Plus the ESPN game on Thursday is in passionate Seattle , so it should be fun to watch.
Things are looking beyond up elsewhere though, with the World Cup kicking off on Friday. It’s just a little exciting. The US begin on Saturday against England and I’m just as curious to see how they do as I am excited to watch it. I’ve been watching over a year of qualifying and this is it. It should be fun.
I’m also excited to see the other teams too, even though I don’t know much about any of them. I think that if I watch as much of the games as I would like to, I may have to move up another notch or two of fandom. I’ll have to control my viewing some though as I could be dangerously close to Outright Hooligan.
I’ve spent the past couple years climbing through the ranks of soccer fan. For a long time, I was on the level of Mild Interest. Then with the purchase of FIFA 2008 for Playstation2, I shot through the lower levels of Casual Observer, Soccer Enthusiast, and Fairweather Fan, and now am somewhere between Soccer Loyalist and I-Call-It-Football Fan.
Unfortunately, I’ve had to sit through a pretty rough start for my hometown team, DC United. I would say that I’ve remained much more optimistic than most DCU fans, and as a result I’ve been sadly disappointed 8 out of 11 games this year. A few key players are healthy again, so things are looking up. Plus the ESPN game on Thursday is in passionate Seattle , so it should be fun to watch.
Things are looking beyond up elsewhere though, with the World Cup kicking off on Friday. It’s just a little exciting. The US begin on Saturday against England and I’m just as curious to see how they do as I am excited to watch it. I’ve been watching over a year of qualifying and this is it. It should be fun.
I’m also excited to see the other teams too, even though I don’t know much about any of them. I think that if I watch as much of the games as I would like to, I may have to move up another notch or two of fandom. I’ll have to control my viewing some though as I could be dangerously close to Outright Hooligan.
Sunday, June 06, 2010
A Carnival Moment
The Carnival came to a nearby small town this weekend. I knew this would be the perfect setting for a follow-up to my hit YouTube video Coin Pusher and some good clean fun. Truthfully, with all this hub-bub, I was just excited to try the coin pusher again.
The drive was a bit longer than expected, but Tiff and I were still excited when we arrived. We knew going in that this was just a carnival and not the County Fair, so there wasn't going to be the award-winning animals or the art contests or the demolition derby or the like. What we did not know was that Just The Carnival was going to be so... so... what it was.
We were on a mission to find the coin pushers and the dime-toss, a game Tiff remembers from her childhood. As we entered we headed towards a permanent wooden tent with the sin, Dime-Toss on it, a reasonable place to begin. The structure was empty, but more than that it appeared abandoned, like an old home with nobody living there, slowly taken over by vines. If I was a Building Inspector or Fire Marshall or whoever, I would have condemned the Dime-Toss Tent right then and there.
With our high hopes having taken a pretty big blow, we continued on. We knew pretty quickly that the coin pusher that we sought out was not there, but we gave the freak show - I mean carnival - a walk through. There was the One-Ton Man, asleep at the entrance of a rickety-old ride. There was the Tattooed Man, who was also dressed in greasy leather, manning another carnival attraction. After walking past several trying to get me to "Win the Lady a Prize!" the Tattooed Man stuck out with the line "I'll give you a prize whether you win or not." And I'm pretty sure I saw a few Bearded Ladies milling about in the crowd... they must have been on break.
Anyways, the most telling line of the hot and humid day, however, came from my wife when we got back in the car to leave. "Ah, good. The car's still nice and cool."
The drive was a bit longer than expected, but Tiff and I were still excited when we arrived. We knew going in that this was just a carnival and not the County Fair, so there wasn't going to be the award-winning animals or the art contests or the demolition derby or the like. What we did not know was that Just The Carnival was going to be so... so... what it was.
We were on a mission to find the coin pushers and the dime-toss, a game Tiff remembers from her childhood. As we entered we headed towards a permanent wooden tent with the sin, Dime-Toss on it, a reasonable place to begin. The structure was empty, but more than that it appeared abandoned, like an old home with nobody living there, slowly taken over by vines. If I was a Building Inspector or Fire Marshall or whoever, I would have condemned the Dime-Toss Tent right then and there.
With our high hopes having taken a pretty big blow, we continued on. We knew pretty quickly that the coin pusher that we sought out was not there, but we gave the freak show - I mean carnival - a walk through. There was the One-Ton Man, asleep at the entrance of a rickety-old ride. There was the Tattooed Man, who was also dressed in greasy leather, manning another carnival attraction. After walking past several trying to get me to "Win the Lady a Prize!" the Tattooed Man stuck out with the line "I'll give you a prize whether you win or not." And I'm pretty sure I saw a few Bearded Ladies milling about in the crowd... they must have been on break.
Anyways, the most telling line of the hot and humid day, however, came from my wife when we got back in the car to leave. "Ah, good. The car's still nice and cool."
Friday, June 04, 2010
A Friday Miracle
Today, I witnessed a miracle. An act of God. A sign of the benevolence of the Heavens. Behold, the awesome powers from above! Today, my lunch made itself.
I've fallen into the routine of making my Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich at night. It's great this way, because I can just grab it out of the refrigerator along with a can of pop and an apple, toss in an ice pack, and run out the door on my way to being a few minutes late to work.
(I normally don't call it 'pop' but I thought it adds to the overall hurried image I was creating. I grew up in Atlanta, so anything fizzy and non-alcoholic was called either coke or sprite depending on the color. I've grown to like a certain diet competitor, so I feel weird calling it coke. And soda sounds like I'm trying to hard. I outta just say the heck with it and stick to water, but that's for another day. Anyways, where was I? Oh yeah, I was conveying a sense of urgency...)
This morning it dawned on me as Tiff was about to leave for work - she leaves before me - so I said to myself aloud, "Oh, I have to make my lunch!" So I sprang out of bed and did bathroom stuff in record time. I washed myself good enough and grabbed the first outfit I could reach and rushed downstairs to slap together my lunch.
It was then that I saw it. The sunlight broke through the window illuminating a packed lunch, the perfectly proportioned Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich inside a tupperware, cut in half even! Day of days! I zipped up the lunchbox and headed out with a smile, trying to hold back the tear in my eye.
I made a few lights along the way and got to work three minutes early today.
At lunch, as I beheld the awesome power from above, I savored every bite. There really is something special about eating food that someone else prepared.
I've fallen into the routine of making my Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich at night. It's great this way, because I can just grab it out of the refrigerator along with a can of pop and an apple, toss in an ice pack, and run out the door on my way to being a few minutes late to work.
(I normally don't call it 'pop' but I thought it adds to the overall hurried image I was creating. I grew up in Atlanta, so anything fizzy and non-alcoholic was called either coke or sprite depending on the color. I've grown to like a certain diet competitor, so I feel weird calling it coke. And soda sounds like I'm trying to hard. I outta just say the heck with it and stick to water, but that's for another day. Anyways, where was I? Oh yeah, I was conveying a sense of urgency...)
This morning it dawned on me as Tiff was about to leave for work - she leaves before me - so I said to myself aloud, "Oh, I have to make my lunch!" So I sprang out of bed and did bathroom stuff in record time. I washed myself good enough and grabbed the first outfit I could reach and rushed downstairs to slap together my lunch.
It was then that I saw it. The sunlight broke through the window illuminating a packed lunch, the perfectly proportioned Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich inside a tupperware, cut in half even! Day of days! I zipped up the lunchbox and headed out with a smile, trying to hold back the tear in my eye.
I made a few lights along the way and got to work three minutes early today.
At lunch, as I beheld the awesome power from above, I savored every bite. There really is something special about eating food that someone else prepared.
Thursday, June 03, 2010
A New Disciplined Approach
My intern Jeff appears to be hard at work trying to revamp the blog – with extra stress on “appears to be.” Meanwhile, I’ve been growing a few new ideas for the blog. I’ve been in a whatever’s-on-my-mind-when-I’m-writing path since the beginning and I think maybe it’s time I implement a bit of discipline here at the Muted Guerrilla.
An appropriate place to start is with a schedule. Here’s what I’m thinking: Mondays will be posts about my weekend and should include the next great web-sensation video featuring me. Tuesdays will be reserved for posts about my greatness. Wednesdays will feature self-deprecating posts to lessen the reader’s awe of me while increasing the reader’s appreciation of me for my humility. Wednesday posts however would always have an underlying message reinforcing my own greatness. Thursday will be Promotion Day, where I hype some facet of my life that could earn me money via the reader. Fridays would be current events. Usually this would detail what I had for lunch accompanied by maybe what I thought about during lunch. (Another great Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich!)
Any day of the week would be appropriate to write about DC United.
This would require a bit more work on my part, but it could be an exciting challenge. And as the blog grew and my fame spread throughout the land, I could devote more time to it and introduce more and more regular features. For instance, I could add a Tuesday afternoon look at the weather. A Sunday afternoon Home Improvement update could work. Wednesday morning I could post about the commute and any thoughts therein. And of course all this would eventually lead to a “Saturday Post from the Archives” where I could repost some of the old greats.
Yep, the sky's the limit. I just need a little more dedication, a bit more discipline. Unfortunately, my record of discipline isn't so great... I can't even get my intern Jeff to pick up the pace on redesigning this blog!
An appropriate place to start is with a schedule. Here’s what I’m thinking: Mondays will be posts about my weekend and should include the next great web-sensation video featuring me. Tuesdays will be reserved for posts about my greatness. Wednesdays will feature self-deprecating posts to lessen the reader’s awe of me while increasing the reader’s appreciation of me for my humility. Wednesday posts however would always have an underlying message reinforcing my own greatness. Thursday will be Promotion Day, where I hype some facet of my life that could earn me money via the reader. Fridays would be current events. Usually this would detail what I had for lunch accompanied by maybe what I thought about during lunch. (Another great Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich!)
Any day of the week would be appropriate to write about DC United.
This would require a bit more work on my part, but it could be an exciting challenge. And as the blog grew and my fame spread throughout the land, I could devote more time to it and introduce more and more regular features. For instance, I could add a Tuesday afternoon look at the weather. A Sunday afternoon Home Improvement update could work. Wednesday morning I could post about the commute and any thoughts therein. And of course all this would eventually lead to a “Saturday Post from the Archives” where I could repost some of the old greats.
Yep, the sky's the limit. I just need a little more dedication, a bit more discipline. Unfortunately, my record of discipline isn't so great... I can't even get my intern Jeff to pick up the pace on redesigning this blog!
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
Me & The DMV
This morning I went to the DMV. The DMV here really pushes its online presence and after today, I understand why. Unfortunately for me, I had let my license expire, so I couldn’t renew over the internet. Also unfortunately, an expired license is not a good thing, so I had to get it renewed quickly.
The office opened at 8, and while I was expecting to have to wait, I was not expecting the line to be so deep when I arrived at 7:45. The parking lot was nearly full and the sidewalk was overloaded. At around 9 o’clock, I finally got to the front of the line (to get a ticket to wait further) and was told I didn’t have everything I need. I headed home to grab my passport, which says nothing about me living in Virginia , and headed back to wait in line again. At least, I had no where important to be.
The line was only about half as long, but I was going to have to wait in it again. Not long after I arrived, an old man arrived. He had his thin white hair combed neatly in place and his face was covered by a handful of liver spots. His striped shirt was tucked severely into his striped pants that looked more like pajama pants than dress pants. His pants were, you guessed it, pulled up to his chest.
The young man in front of me offered to switch spots in line with him that the old man accepted with a smile and then joked “I don’t look that old do I?” I offered to switch spots with him myself and the two of us talked for a brief minute. I told him this was my second time waiting in line, and he told me he always brings everything he might need with him to the DMV and raised a tidy little stack of papers. I would have enjoyed talking to him longer, but the young security guard offered to usher him to the front of the line. Senior citizen privilege I guess. I think he was more surprised than anyone. You know those senior citizens, too… always in a rush to get stuff done.
I got to the front of the line where I got my ticket, B38, and camped out by the far wall. I spotted the old man chatting with someone in the seats. I kept my eye on him and watched him struggle to stand when his number was called. He laughed aloud at himself for this and again when his number was repeated over the loud speaker because it took him a minute to get there. I watched him quickly go through the transaction at the teller.
Like me, it appeared he was just renewing his license. I was stunned, however, when this old man removed his glasses before his eye exam. Admittedly, this gave me hope, as I had my glasses in my pocket, trying to quickly strengthen and adjust my eyes so that I too could pass without the aid of eyeglasses. No such luck though, as I waited patiently looking through the machine for my teller to flash the numbers before I realized that I just couldn’t see the numbers that were up there.
Then my teller convinced me that I had filled out the form wrong by reversing the numbers in my street address. The numbers above my front door. The numbers on all my mail. The numbers at which I live. She convinced me that I did not know my own address, and now I’m getting a license made with the wrong address. This is true. In her defense, my old license that I got when I moved, only a year ago, had the wrong address on it, which would be my fault.
So to recap: let’s compare the old man at the DMV and me. Which one did not have all the necessary paperwork the first time through? Which one apparently has better eyesight? Which one presumably knows where he lives? Which one is not easily influenced or corrected into making the wrong choice? And, who got bumped to the front of the line?
I’m waiting for my chance to skip to the front of the line, unfortunately that could take fifty-some years. I have a feeling though the wait is much better than that of the DMV.
The office opened at 8, and while I was expecting to have to wait, I was not expecting the line to be so deep when I arrived at 7:45. The parking lot was nearly full and the sidewalk was overloaded. At around 9 o’clock, I finally got to the front of the line (to get a ticket to wait further) and was told I didn’t have everything I need. I headed home to grab my passport, which says nothing about me living in Virginia , and headed back to wait in line again. At least, I had no where important to be.
The line was only about half as long, but I was going to have to wait in it again. Not long after I arrived, an old man arrived. He had his thin white hair combed neatly in place and his face was covered by a handful of liver spots. His striped shirt was tucked severely into his striped pants that looked more like pajama pants than dress pants. His pants were, you guessed it, pulled up to his chest.
The young man in front of me offered to switch spots in line with him that the old man accepted with a smile and then joked “I don’t look that old do I?” I offered to switch spots with him myself and the two of us talked for a brief minute. I told him this was my second time waiting in line, and he told me he always brings everything he might need with him to the DMV and raised a tidy little stack of papers. I would have enjoyed talking to him longer, but the young security guard offered to usher him to the front of the line. Senior citizen privilege I guess. I think he was more surprised than anyone. You know those senior citizens, too… always in a rush to get stuff done.
I got to the front of the line where I got my ticket, B38, and camped out by the far wall. I spotted the old man chatting with someone in the seats. I kept my eye on him and watched him struggle to stand when his number was called. He laughed aloud at himself for this and again when his number was repeated over the loud speaker because it took him a minute to get there. I watched him quickly go through the transaction at the teller.
Like me, it appeared he was just renewing his license. I was stunned, however, when this old man removed his glasses before his eye exam. Admittedly, this gave me hope, as I had my glasses in my pocket, trying to quickly strengthen and adjust my eyes so that I too could pass without the aid of eyeglasses. No such luck though, as I waited patiently looking through the machine for my teller to flash the numbers before I realized that I just couldn’t see the numbers that were up there.
Then my teller convinced me that I had filled out the form wrong by reversing the numbers in my street address. The numbers above my front door. The numbers on all my mail. The numbers at which I live. She convinced me that I did not know my own address, and now I’m getting a license made with the wrong address. This is true. In her defense, my old license that I got when I moved, only a year ago, had the wrong address on it, which would be my fault.
So to recap: let’s compare the old man at the DMV and me. Which one did not have all the necessary paperwork the first time through? Which one apparently has better eyesight? Which one presumably knows where he lives? Which one is not easily influenced or corrected into making the wrong choice? And, who got bumped to the front of the line?
I’m waiting for my chance to skip to the front of the line, unfortunately that could take fifty-some years. I have a feeling though the wait is much better than that of the DMV.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)