A Few Thoughts On The Republican Convention.

Did you know John McCain was a a war hero? I think I heard that somewhere the last couple nights.

For my money, Mike Huckabee is still the best speaker the Republicans have.

Shocking I know, but hypocrisy in politics and media is alive and well. The same Republican pundits who bemoan Obama's "celebrity" are crowing about Sarah Palin and announcing that "A star is born." And I didn't hear the slimy Rudy Giuliani slapping around the "liberal media" when they were slurping up to him, crowning him "America's Mayor".

Palin can crack wise all she wants about hauling away the Greek columns from Obama's stadium stage, but anybody with a brain understands that all politics at this level is carefully orchestrated, focus group-tested theatrical stagecraft. Let's be real.

Note to Fred Thompson-I don't care if the Vice President of the United States can field dress a moose.

I suspect I'm in the minority here, but I did not like the tone of Sarah Palin's speech. Yeah, she did what she needed to do and certianly performed well in her first time on the big stage. I liked her introduction to her family and her story. However, I thought the parts that were supposed to prove she is tough as nails came off as sarcastic and condascending. (And I love to employ sarcasm.)

I'm already sick of the phrase "heartbeat away from the presidency."

I found one line of her speech particulary interesting-"Al Qaeda terrorists still plot to inflict catastrophic harm on America, and he's worried that someone won't read them their rights."
Were I a reporter, I could ask her or McCain's people exactly what they meant by that statement. I read it to mean that Obama is more worried about terror suspects having rights and being treated humanely while being detained than about whether any info is extracted. Don't you think John McCain would have loved to have been read rights,treated humanely and protected from toture during captivity? Just asking.

Finally, as someone who is a fan of this political game and as someone who has not decided where his vote will land, I think this race just got very interesting. If nothing else, it should be a fun two months.

An Exhibition Not A Competition, So Please, Please No Wagering.

Though I don't usually make sports prognostications, I thought I would make some NFL predictions this year. Instead of just picking season records for each team without looking at the schedule, I went through the schedule and predicted each game. That left me with, what I think are, more realistic results. Some of the records I came up with really surprised me. I could be way wrong, but the NFL always has at least one surprise team so maybe I won't be as wrong as I think. I'll pick my Super Bowl champ too, but I'll probably make real playoff predictions come January. (Full disclosure- the Cowboys are my favorite team and I despise the Eagles and Redskins.)

AFC East
Pats 14-2, Bills 12-4, Jets 10-6, Dolphins 2-14

AFC South
Colts 11-5, Jaguars 11-5, Titans 9-7, Texans 8-8

AFC North
Steelers 9-7, Bengals 7-9, Browns 6-10, Ravens 3-13

AFC West
Chargers 10-6, Broncos 6-10, Raiders 4-12, Chiefs 4-12

Playoff teams-Pats, Colts, Chargers, Steelers, Jags, Bills

NFC East
Cowboys 12-4, Eagles 12-4, Redskins 10-6, Giants 9-7

NFC South
Panthers 14-2, Saints 9-7, Bucs 8-8, Falcons 4-12

NFC North
Vikings 10-6, Packers 9-7, Bears 6-10, Lions 3-13

NFC West
Seahawks 10-6, Rams 5-11, Cardinals 4-12, 49ers 4-12

Playoff teams-Cowboys, Vikings, Panthers, Seahawks, Eagles, Redskins

Super Bowl Prediction- Colts over Eagles

The highlights:
*Every team in the NFC East, except the defending Super Bowl champ Giants, will make the playoffs.
*Brett Favre will help the Jets improve greatly, but not enough to make the playoffs.
*The Packers, with Aaron Rogers in place of Brett Favre, will have a decent but far worse season than last year.
*The Panthers (I can't believe I came up with a 14-2 record) will have the best record in the NFC, but will not be the best team.
*The Bills will surprise everyone by making a deep playoff run.

My Baby and My Baby.

Some updated photos as the pregnancy rolls on.

Election Headquarters

Forget Denver and St. Paul, I've found a better spot to find all my Campiagn '08 gear: Mos Eisley spaceport. Check out these funny Star Wars "election" items.

Preseason Prattle.

A few observations from last night's Redskins-Jags game:

1) Sitting in the second row, in the shadow of the goalpost does not suck. (Thanks Cousin.)

2) The Wave never gets old. Well, as a stadium phenomenon year after year that is. After ten laps around the stadium it certainly gets old.

3) Free hot dogs are the tastiest hotdogs.

4) Overheard in the row in front of us: While referring to Redskins rookie running back Marcus Mason-The future! That's the future! That's like watchin' The Matrix, man!

Pipe Down, Stranger.

I've previously written that my wife calls me The World's Youngest Curmudgeon and she'll probably reach for that nickname again after reading this post. Today's problem is strangers who find it neccessary to make small talk. The barber, the parents waiting in the school parking lot for their kids, the people in the elevator all feel the need to make awkward stabs at filling dead air. Why? Did I unwittingly sign a social compact requiring me to partake in this mindless chitchat? For some, uncomfortable silences are comfortable. I wear uncomfortable silences like a worn, old sweatshirt that feels so soft as it warms me from the autumn chill of unwanted social interaction.

I don't despise small talk because I'm impolite. In fact, I took a long walk through Downtown Annapolis last week and nodded towards, smiled at or said "Good Morning" to nearly everyone I passed. I despise small talk because I don't care where the lady cutting my hair went to high school and it's none of her business what I do for a living. I despise it because I don't know how to answer the question-"What about that Gustav, huh?" (Well, I hope it swells to a Category 5 and drowns thousands. What do you expect me to say sir? Of course I hope it dissipates before becoming even deadlier.) I despise small talk because I am shy and socially awkward and sometimes don't know what to say (sometimes even with family and friends).

For the record, in this post I am talking about passing strangers who I will see for fleeting moments. When introduced to a new group that will require constant interaction, be it work, a new class, etc, I try to be social and have been fortunate to make lifelong friends along the way.

I'm sure that shunning interaction with strangers will lead to me missing out on something. Maybe the barber lady has season tickets to the Washington Caps and is looking to unload some tickets. Maybe one of the dads in the parking lot has a mint condition Hasbro Millenium Falcon and would want to hang out and show me his toy collection. I'll never know. But I'm okay with that because more than likely she'll just say something like "How about this heat?".

The Wussification Of America Continues.

I'm no macho man. In fact, I'm kind of a wimp. As a kid I was a shy, introverted scaredy-cat. I'd like to think, however, that I have enough grit to teach my soon-to-arrive daughter that sometimes you have to face a challenge head-on instead of running away. I will tell her that you won't always be successful, but that sometimes failure helps you learn. I certainly hope I teach her to try. Unlike the league administrators and parents in New Haven, Connecticut who have banned a nine-year-old boy from pitching in his youth baseball league because he throws too hard and his team is too good. Full story from ESPN here.

Throws too hard? To me it's as simple as this- if he is of an eligible age (and he is, the league is 8-10) then he should be allowed to play. Baseball, at any level, can be dangerous. A flung bat, crashing outfielders, and a hit back through the box can bruise, maim and even kill. That is why players are equipped with helmets, catching gear and, at this age level, softer balls that cause less damage than traditional baseballs. If parents are so afraid for their child's safety then they should keep them on the sidelines.

My real beef with this ruling is that it appears, according to other reports I've read and heard, to be driven by parental complaints that Jericho Scott pitching too hard is not fair to their kids. Scott hits 40mph on the radar gun. I don't know what that equates to for an adult and I don't care because it is irrelevant. If your kid can't hit Scott's fastball help him practice to be a better hitter. Don't tell him that we'll eliminate the tough challenge so you don't have to face it. Not everything will come easy.

As a seven-year-old ball player I struck out a lot and was hit by the ball far more often than I hit it. (Seriously, I sucked.) There was a dominant pitcher who nobody wanted to face because he was so good and it hurt so bad when he unintentionally drilled you in the back. Yet nobody suggested he play second base instead of pitch. Should Michael Jordan have been forced to play with one hand tied behind his back because, gosh, with two hands he is so much better than everyone else? Of course not.

These are the same parents who would come into Barnes and Noble and request the shortest book on their kid's summer reading list because, "My kid will never read anything that thick." Yeah, To Kill A Mockingbird will be so taxing. Wouldn't want it to get in the way of all the X Box playing. Are you going to write the paper for them too? I have worked with teens and college students that evidently have parents who heap the praise by the bucketload. I'm all for being supportive and building self-esteem. However,I shouldn't, as a manager, have to pat you on the head and give you a cookie everytime you complete the most mundane and routine of tasks that, oh by the way, we are paying you to complete.

I have a news flash for these parents: Some kids are smarter than yours. Some kids are better singers than yours. And some kids can hit the fastball better than yours. You know what? That's okay. Instead of crying about it, or worse yet not believing it, help your child learn, grow, improve in whatever they do. Support them without coddling them. Teach them without knocking down every hurdle before they reach it. Because in real life people keep score.

Blessed Be The Speechwriters.

I'm not a Democrat, I'm not sure where my vote will be cast in November, and I'm certainly no fan of the Clintons. But I am a fan of great speechwriting and I enjoyed Hilary's speech tonight. Inspirational, unifying and filled with some great lines, that was one helluva a performance. In fact, if Hilary had given more speeches like that during the primaries she would likely be addressing the convention Thursday night instead of tonight. A mighty tip of the cap to whoever wrote this one.

A Few Photos

I try not to take for granted the fact that I live so close to Washington DC. Many people never get to see our nation's capital or make it a once in a lifetime trip. I'm an American history buff that still doesn't take full advantage of the proximity. Here's a few photos form our trip a couple weeks ago.

Not Long Ago In Theater Near, Near To Me.

I finally made it see the Star Wars:Clone Wars cartoon today. (I was surprised when it was sold out Friday.) Prior to seeing it I had jumbled thoughts about the flick. I wanted to love it, but assumed it would dissapoint the fan in me. I worried that this was a movie that would be better served existing solely as an idea or two minute trailer.

The low expectations I carried into the theater were not exactly exceeded as the movie started. I already knew that with Warner Bros., not Twentieth Century Fox, distributing the movie there would be no Fox drumbeat and fanfare that usually brings goosebumps as it signals the start of a Star Wars flick. I was dissapointed, however, when there was no golden, exposition-setting crawl fading off into outer space. Instead, we got a quick voiceover setup from an announcer with a gameshow style, "Johnny, tell him what he's won..." voice. That and a remixed(?) theme song had me shifting uncomfortably in my seat. Thank goodness it got better from there.

This movie itself is by no measure great, but it did exceed my tamped down expectations. Like in the prequels, the story is thin and the dialouge is brutal. There are other lesser dissapointments that threatened to sink the pic. The human characters look pretty cheesy. Although, the cartoon Anakin may be less wooden than Hayden Christiansen's portrayal. There is not nearly enough Mace Windu (considering the awesomeness of his previous two minute Clone Wars cartoon short and that they actually had Sam Jackson doing the voice). And there is a Hutt character that not only is a waste of a plot point that really isn't neccesary to advance the story, but is also a pretty bad stereotype. I know there is a better comparison that is currently eluding me so, for now, think Rerun from "What's Happening".

I did say I actually liked the movie, right? Here's why. Besides the poorly animated human faces, which are great for Madden '08 but bad for a cartoon that has as touchstones six movies starring real humans, the movie looks fantastic. There is a particularly visually stunning laser battle that unfolds vertically on a sheer cliff face. The machines, aliens, and especially the clone troopers, all look excellent. The space battles are cool, as are the lightsaber duels. This movie may dissapoint hard core fans, but it will join the other six movies on my DVD shelf. That's because it contains enough to remind me why I love Star Wars- it stirs the imagination and, for two hours, transports me to a galaxy far, far away.

Pain(t) In The Butt.

I suppose there are many milestones as new parents await the arrival of their child including the first sonogram, assembling the crib, the baby shower,etc. I am genuinely excited about all of them, save one-painting the baby's room. You see, on my Scale of Unpleasant Things painting ranks somewhere between single-ply toilet paper (senseless!) and people who refer to themselves in the third person (insufferable!). And equal to people who carelessly overuse exclamation marks while blogging (annoying!!!). So with my negative build-up it is little wonder that I have had a rough time completing this important task. My mom even volunteered to help me because she enjoys painting. Seriously. I'm convinced she was afraid I would half-ass the job.

We are going with a jungle theme in the nursery and have purchased a cute set bedding set that includes a wallpaper border. We decided to place the border at chair rail height and paint the walls below it a green to match the green in the border. Trouble is, the manufacturer of the border apparently invented a new color green for this particular border. Because I can't find a green paint to match. ANYWHERE. I have multiple sample cards from several paint stores. Granny Smith? Too light. Pepper Grass? Too dark. Green Grapes? Too grapey.

Actually, let me backtrack. On my first attempt I actually bought a gallon of paint. Under the flourescent lights of the hardware store Riverview looked like a winner. On the walls of the nursery, however, Riverview looks, perhaps ironically, but not amusingly, like babyshit green. Amanda and my mom thought this was pretty funny because a blind man could have picked a better match for the border. I protested about the flourescent lights, but they weren't buying it. Mom and I then selected samples from a different store. None matched perfectly, but appeared to be in the right neighborhood. Until we got outside in the sunshine. Out of the flourescent light they weren't even close to matching. My mom said she wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't been there herself. It was some vindication for my earlier miscue, but little consolation because I still don't have any paint. Tomorrow Amanda and I will venture out to try again. Given my recent paint history, I'm betting tomorrow will be a doozy.

$200 of Crap Is Still Crap.

While flipping channels I passed an infomercial for the amazing Slendertone Belt that effortlessly contracts your flabby tummy to six-pack sexiness. Who buys this stuff? Wait, I answered my own question. It's the same gullible dopes who think those Bigfoot guys in Georgia are for real and who think they are going to pay for their kid's college education with their mass-produced action figure collection and twelve Albert Pujols rookie cards.

Memo to these lazy exercisophobes: There are no shortcuts. Even if the "Electro Muscle Stimulation" does work as advertised (the technology is used successfully in physical rehab centers) your best case scenario is harder abs hidden under your belly fat. I imagine buried somewhere amidst the testimonials and discount prices you can find the truth-telling fine print about varying results and best results accompanying a balanced diet and steady exercise. Duh. Now if you'll excuse me it's time for my Thighmaster workout.

We Interrupt This Broadcast...

I'm pretty sure World's Biggest Windbag Joe Thiesmann just had an on-air, in-booth orgasm when Brett Favre took the field for the Jets. It's gonna be a long season.

Sophisticated Kids.

A scary story in yesterday's Washington Post about an 18-year-old Montgomery County, MD resident and his 17-year-old accomplice who have been found to be stashing assault weapons, armor piercing bullets and, oh yeah, a map of presidential retreat Camp David that includes a motorcade route.

"Police investigating a teenager accused of bomb-making and weapons violations found a map of Camp David with a presidential motorcade route in his home, a Montgomery County prosecutor said.

Collin McKenzie-Gude, 18, of Bethesda, also had a document that appears to describe how to kill someone 200 meters away, Montgomery Assistant State's Attorney Peter A. Feeney said.
The teen had two forms of fake identification _ one portraying him as a Central Intelligence Agency employee and another as a federal contractor, Feeney said. The details were revealed Tuesday in a bond hearing in the case, The Washington Post reported...

Authorities said they found 50 pounds of chemicals, assault-style weapons and armor-piercing bullets in his home. The investigation has expanded to include the CIA, FBI and Secret Service. "

I'm not going to turn this into a "What the hell is wrong with people?" rant. I'm not naive enough to think that there are not evil young people smart and devious enough to plot and execute a diabolical plan; Columbine and Virginia Tech hammered these points home long ago. I do, however, wonder what he was actually up to. Was a true home-grown terrorist plot thwarted? Or was he just a punk kid playing a little over his head. And I do wonder about his father who, allegedly, helped his son acquire some of the weapons. Jesus, when I was eighteen, the most complex and diabolical plans my friends and I tried to hatch were scoring beer and toilet papering buddies' cars without getting caught.

"Deltoids of Compassion"

Big thanks to St4rbux for recommending Dr. Horrible . This web musical stars Neil Patrick Harris and Nathan Fillion (from Firefly) as a not-so-successful supervillian and his hero counterpart. Yeah, its a musical, but you'll be laughing so hard at the lyrics, stupid costumes, and bad character names that you won't care. Funny, funny stuff. It reminds me in a lot of ways of Austin Grossman's novel Soon I Will Be Invincible, which is told from the dual perspectives of an always-thwarted evil supergenius and a superheroine trying to crack into the big leagues of superherodom. It's funny and purposely filled with superhero cliches. I have a feeling anybody that has seen/read one of these will like the other. Thanks St4rbux, because with joining Netflix and discovering the wonder of OnDemand, I really didn't need any more media entertainment options.

"Somebody Open A Window, I'm Firing Up The Hibachi."

In our continuing preparation for the arrival of Baby Girl Hailey, tonight we took a tour of the labor and delivery pavilion at Anne Arundel Medical Center. They talk about protocols, visitor procedure, show you the delivery rooms, etc. All in all, very informative and worthwhile. Especially the part when our tour guide showed us the area where refreshments were kept for the expectant moms. Our guide, lamenting the fact that these refreshments were for moms only, suggested that expectant dads bring a cooler from home fully stocked with sodas and sandwiches for the long haul. What I heard? HOSPITAL SANCTIONED TAILGATING as I await the birth of our daughter.

A "Gamble" I Don't Think I Can Make.

A few days ago, in response to my brief post lamenting the dearth of quality presidential candidates, St4rbux suggested Bob Barr as a posssible alternative. So I checked http://www.bobbarr2008.com/ for some info knowing that he is libertarian and that, therefore, I would likely favor some of his positions. I found that I do agree with Bob Barr on many issues and disagree on others. Of course, this is normal; it's unlikely that I would ever completely agree with any candidate on every issue. So I'm thinking that maybe I can vote for this guy. It wouldn't just be a protest vote "against" the major party candidates, but instead a vote for somebody I can believe in.

Then I looked a little closer at his vice presidential running mate, Mr Wayne Allyn Root. Where have I heard that name before? More accurately, where have I heard Mr. Root's voice before, introducing himself somewhere over the airwaves? I couldn't put my finger on it until Google and Wiki shed some light. Oh, yeah. Wayne Allyn Root is, among other (some even noble) things, a loud, self-promoting gambling and sports betting handicapper. For many years I've heard his commercials on sports talk radio touting his amazing sports prognostications. I don't think I can vote for a vice presidential candidate that calls himself the King of Vegas and shouts about over/unders and the morning line. What, Art Schlichter wasn't available? Who is in line to be chief of staff, disgraced NBA ref Tim Donaghy? Mr. Root, if I need some info on the best three-team parlay for the opening NFL weekend, you're my guy. A heartbeat away from the Oval Office? Not so much.

So, I'm back to square one. Vote for the candidate of change? Vote for John Mccain, he of the campaign that has an advisor that today said "John McCain does not speak for the McCain campaign"? Vote for Barr just because he is somebody different even though I can't back his VP? Not Vote? Of course, I can always do what I did in 2004-write in dear old dad.

An Endorsement, Perhaps Gross, But An Endorsement Nonetheless.

Like finally trying Chipotle, I have once again purchased a product that I should have purchased long ago. This product? None other than this generation's "underwear that's fun to wear": Under Armour Boxerjocks (I know, ridiculous name). This stuff isn't just for athletes. Now, I'm not decked out head to toe in their gear, but the underwear is great.

Stay with me here, I'll try to explain their greatness without being too graphic. As any guy knows steamy summer days can leave things awfully sticky/sloppy "down there". And when things get sticky/sloppy a certain amount of "rubbing/chafing" can occur. It's even more uncomfortable for fat guys who tend to, as David Letterman says, make their own gravy on a hot day. (If you are still reading, trust me, I thought about vetoing this post in favor of good taste, but ah, you know me.)

Anyway, you can kiss these maladies goodbye thanks to these boxers and their Performance Pouch Technology, strategic ventilation and anti-microbial technology. (Under Armour's copy writers must have a blast coming up with these goofy labels and advertising.) To borrow from their tagline "We Must Protect This House"-Now "down there" I am dry, airy and, most definitely, "protected".

The Dark Knight-No Spoilers

I have the good fortune of being on semi-vacation this week so this morning I donned my cape and pointy-eared cowl and headed for the movie theater. I'm kidding, of course, about wearing a costume, in fact there was a surprising dearth of Batman memoribilia (and sadly, deodorant) in the theater this morning. I love that Batman plays to such a wide demographic. There were teens, older couples and the requisite guys in ponytails and GWAR t-shirts. Fortunately, there were very few children present; this is no way a kid's movie.

It is, however, a dark, brooding violence-filled thriller that banishes West, Keaton, Kilmer and Clooney to some distant Home for Inferior Batmen. And this isn't neccesarily because Christian Bale is better as Batman (though he is), because I loved Michael Keaton's version. It's more about the movie having a tone that none of the others tried to reach. This movie deals more with how Bruce Wayne/Batman reconciles his vigilante duty and Bale is up to the task. The movie is a bit long and dragged down slightly by its bloated narrative, but for the most part it is a bleak and relentless attack on the senses. You get your gadgets, your fistfights, your explosions, your high drama, your soaring orchestral score and, of course, your Joker.

I scoffed when people said Heath Ledger would probably be nominated for an Oscar for his performance, writing it off as hype and sentimentality because of his passing. I may have to recant those scoffs. Ledger's Joker may not posthumously win an Oscar, but he goes down in my book as the second greatest (or should it be worst?) villian in cinema history behind only Hannibal Lechter. (Though I haven't seen No Country for Old Men.) This Joker is funny, intense, violent, intelligent and creepy without being at all over the top. Forget Jack Nicholson, this is the iconic Joker performance. The Joker and Batman have a five minute encounter 2/3 of the way through the movie that is worth the price of admission. Intense and, on a certain level, scary it made me wonder to what level Ledger's career could have ascended from here. Too bad we'll never know.

If you like Batman at all, strap on your utility belt and race your Batmobile to the theater. The Dark Knight is one of the best superhero movies ever thanks to a great hero, but mostly thanks to it's even better villian.

Why I Don't Drink Coffee.

In today's Washington Post: A tale of coffee snobbery (not that there's anything wrong with that), customer service (or lack thereof) and the power of blogging.

The drink request Sunday, said Simmermon, who was visiting from Brooklyn, was denied by a barista who told him that Murky doesn't do espresso over ice. Irked, Simmermon said he asked for a triple espresso and a cup of ice, which he said the barista provided, grudgingly.
Service. No smile.
Then -- and this is Simmermon's account -- the barista scolded him, saying that what he was doing to his espresso was "not okay" and that the store's policy was to preserve the integrity of the drink. The employee said that allowing customers to dilute espresso was not in keeping with said policy.
Coffee-rage moment in 3, 2, 1 . . .

Full Story Here

Can't Have It Both Ways.

So let me get this straight- first John McCain taunts Barack Obama for not going to Iraq and now criticizes his trip calling it nothing but media-covered campaign stops. Will somebody please find a candidate worthy of my vote?

I Think I'm In Love.

I made a new friend today, had lunch with her in fact. She is saucy, spicy and smells, oh, so good. I had walked past her many times before, but decided today was the day to introduce myself. My friend St4rbux sings her praises and has previously recommended I meet her. She is so hot I think I might even be able to talk Amanda into joining in the next time I see her. Her name is Chipotle Mexican Grill and I think I'm in love.

Six Months And Counting...

Thanks to everyone who has weighed in with baby advice. We really appreciate it. It was thoughtful, instructive, helpful and sometimes funny; I expected nothing less. Thank you. Here is a shot of why we're doing all the legwork.

No Trailer Trash Here.

I got a great surprise while at the movies today. The Star Wars: Clone Wars trailer played before Journey to the Center of the Earth. While fumbling with my 3-D glasses I noticed the twinkling Lucasfilm logo pop up on the screen. There really is something about seeing it on the giant screen. I have had my doubts about the cartoon (I loved the hand drawn Clone Wars animated series that briefly ran leading up to ROTS, but thought I would hate the new computer animated stuff.), however, it looks to be badass. I'm still not in love with the way the human characters look, but the creatures and especially the clone troopers look awesome. Unlike most Star Wars fans likely have, I had not yet seen the trailer online. Now I'm glad I hadn't because it gave me goosebumps like every Star Wars trailer or film has when watching it in the theater. Soaring John Williams music, the buzz and hiss of lightsabers,-ah, come on August 15th. Seeing the trailer almost made up for having to sit through Journey. I know there is a lot of summer left, but that has to be the most brainless movie of the year. If you haven't seen the Star Wars trailer, you can find two trailers here.

Also, Brent recently hipped me to the trailer for the new Bond film with the unfortunate title, Quantum of Solace. Loved Casino Royale; it was the perfect reboot to the series. I think the new one is out November 7th. See trailer here.

Calling All Parents.

We are looking at baby stuff and want to hear the voices of experience. Is there an item, device, piece of equipment or specific brand of item that was so indispensable that you couldn't or wouldn't want to raise baby without it?

This Time It Wasn't Me!

Today I had the rare treat of scoring a hat trick of bad drivers aimed squarely at my Honda. I say "treat" because on a normal day I witness way more than three shitty driving moves from the lovely citizens of Annapolis where everyone plays America's fastest growing driving game sensation, "I'll Run This Stop Sign Because Of Course He'll Stop." I'm firmly convinced that I have some superpower that allows me, and me alone, to see the invisible stops signs on Annapolis street corners. If bad driving were polygamy, Annapolitans would be Warren Jeffs and I am a 14-year-old girl being held against my will.

I know blogging about bad drivers is about as original as calling George Bush stupid, but I've had it up to here.

Driver no. 1 wouldn't let me merge onto Route 50. Instead of moving into the vacant center lane she obliviously matched my speed (there was line of cars on her bumper) while blabbering on her cell phone. When someone is trapped in the right lane unable to get over I don't mind getting to highway speed and zipping in front of them, in fact that is exactly what acceleration lanes are for. I shouldn't, however, have to gun it to 90 mph to do it. She could have slowed a bit ( or sped up a bit), unless she was receiving direct orders, via the cell phone, to not let me merge.

Driver no. 2 came frighteningly close to T-Boning me as I turned left through an intersection. Sir, if after almost plowing into me because you have blown a red light at 40 mph, you shouldn't stare me down.

Driver no. 3 was... aww forget it. Let me stop complaining; we all encounter poor drivers. Plus, I have to go take out the garbage because Amanda just opened the can and it smells like death.

Two Recommendations For The Price Of One.

There have been many artistic endeavors that sseek to explain, belittle, skewer and examine life in the suburbs. Recently, I've found two of the best-the tv show Weeds and a novel, The Abstinence Teacher by Tom Perrota. I had wanted to check out Weeds for awhile and finally watched Season One on DVD before we had our cable hooked up. It's a funny character study starring one of my long-time favorites, Mary Louise Parker. The writing is sharp, the plots are convoluted (Not Nip/Tuck convoluted, but convoluted nonetheless.) and the ensemble cast is strong. The writers even manage to make Kevin Nealon funny, something that has until now been an iffy proposition. Favorite line so far, through Season One and part of Season Two:"When does CPR become necrophilia?"

As for Tom Perrotta, I have found a new author to read. The Abstinence Teacher takes on religion, abstinence programs (duh), youth sports and the difficult task of raising kids. While another of my favorite authors, Chuck Pahlniuk, writes with fervor and zooms right past any shred of plausibility, Perrotta takes the opposite approach. He has a keen eye for the details and subtlety of life and relays all the complexities with a smooth, patient writing style. Can't wait to read his other work.

Straight to Bargain.

This one is mostly for my bookselling friends. I read a recent column in the Washington Post that reiterates what we already know-there are a lot of crappy books being published. The column, written by somebody in the publishing industry, doesn't break much new ground, but helps explain some of the reasons the shelves are filled with junk.

WALL-E Made Me SLEEP-E.

Today I saw WALL-E ,Pixar's latest sure-to-break-records summer blockbuster. Let me say that generally I enjoy Pixar films(I've seen all but Cars) and that the boys I took thoroughly enjoyed it. The animation, or art really, reached the outstanding level that we expect from Pixar. All that being said, I need to bang on this movie a little. It wasn't bad, but it was no "The Incredibles" either. On many levels this a heavy, dark adult movie. Those who wish to analyze can pluck many a theme from the film. Take your pick: Strong female saves goofy male (certainly hits home for me), underdog succeeds, new technology versus old technology, love conquers all and my personal favorite, robots might just be the end of us.

To see any of these themes, though, you have to dodge the theme Disney is ramming down your throat-you, yes you, are ruining Planet Earth. Big business and overconsumption, to hear Disney tell it, will render Earth uninhabitable and spacebound humans will grow fat and lazy because robots fulfill our every need. I'm not the greenest guy around, but I do understand subtlety and don't need to be hit over the head with the save the environment message. The filmakers lay the guilt/blame on thicker than the layers of garbage WALL-E stacks all day every day. Yet, I'm sure that won't stop Disney from selling tons of plastic WALL-E action figures, toothbrushes, nite lites, and lunch boxes that will clog landfills for the forseeable future.

WALL-E, sort of the Cal Ripken of trash robots, goes to work everyday despite the fact that all other robots on abandoned Earth have long since rusted. The endearing underdog discovers a plant somehow still alive and the adventure really begins when he falls in love with and subsequently follows a space probe back to the ship harboring mankind. WALL-E hits all the right notes that are supposed to pluck your heartstrings and make you love a character, but for me the connection just wasn't there.

I'll wrap it up like this-The animation, especially of the bleak first 30 minutes, was great, there are some laughs, WALL-E himself is likable, but ultimately I think I found the Pixar pre-movie short film more entertaining than the feature. Too bad.

Revenge of the Machines.

I have previously established that I am a technophobe and believe that technology will bring doom to us all. Yep, someday the machines will band together, rise up and destroy us. (I tend to lash out at things I don't understand or with which I have no proficiency). It may be a self-fulfulling prophecy, my pessimism and worry bring about lots of those, but I think the electronic devices in my life are beginning the revolution. Sure, I know that my cell phone has been giving me brain cancer and that standing in front of the microwave is shrinking my balls, however, the recent glitches have me convinced there is an escalation.

In the last couple of days our computer mouse, cable box and internet service have all been on the fritz. Want more evidence? Since we've moved we've had major issues getting phone/internet service set up, the fridge started making an unearthly growl whose decibel count was matched only by the soaring temperature inside and I have broken not one, but two cell phones. Yesterday may have been the icing on the cake. I'm convinced the evil, intelligent Nintendo Wii was actively plotting my demise. First, it blunted my focus with the mind-numbingly boring Speed Racer game. Then when my defenses were down, the Wii attacked my elbow with way too many rounds of Wii bowling. That's right my arm is sore because I played too much VIDEO BOWLING. Thank goodness I bowl right-handed. Had I used my left, formerly bursitic elbow I might be hospitalized right now. Ok, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but heed my warning-Keep an eye on your electronics because they have an optical lens on you.

Movie Review Haiku

GET SMART

Carrell makes me laugh,
99 is smoking hot,
Loved it by that much.

Mallrat.

I used to think God's greatest gift to man, besides life itself, was perhaps forgiveness. Now, I'm convinced it's the shopping mall. That's right, radiant stone and glass monuments to retail gorging and American over-indulgence. I've had some time to kill the last few days so I have popped into the mall for a couple minutes each of the last two days and man, has it been great. I love to people watch and the mall is second to only the boardwalk for pure finger-pointing people watching.

Seriously, what other circus crams so much under one tent? You have your power walkers flailing their way to fitness, kids on leashes and mothers and daughters engaged in a contest to see who can dress hipper (and by that I mean sluttier). And what about the merchandise? Kiosks overflowing with remote control helicopters, NFL car floormats and even hot dogs wrapped in pretzels make you dizzy with the possibilities.

I do, however, have one beef with malls. Every clothing store now seems more like a niteclub than retail establishment. They all have tiny, dark openings, a thumping techno beat and smell like an AXE body spray factory. Is it supposed to be mysterious? What's the mystery about high prices and clothes I can't fit into? I'm surprised there is not a velvet rope and a bouncer crossing me off his clipboard because my waistline is too large. However, being waved on by the opening to Garage or Forever 21 is hardly enough to keep me from being a mall rat every so often.

Administrative Adjustment

Since my friend Bryan now also has a blog (Space Monkey Mafia, see my links) and will sometimes be commenting here, I am changing my post and comment ID to "Bryan H" to eliminate any confusion over who is commenting. Carry on.

Help.

I am happy as hell that we are expecting a little girl, but it has added one item to our "to do" list in preparing for her arrival. We have, for quite some time, had a boy's name picked out. However, since my chromosomes( I guess that's right. I'm no geneticist.) chose female, we need to find a girl's name. This task would be easier if I wasn't The Most Indecisive Man In The World. Amanda has made many suggestions, most of which I have vetoed. She too has vetoed many, but that's usually because I've suggested something like Persephone or Athena. We are searching for something somewhere between common and Celebrity Scientologist Wacky. No Jennifer, yet no Pilot Inspektor. (Damn you, Jason Lee. You used to be cool.)

This is where you come in dear reader. In an informal, NON-BINDING poll I'm asking you to cast a vote for a name from this list we've narrowed. Write-ins are also welcome. For the middle name we have chosen Grace, for Amanda's grandmother. That is, unless we use Grace as the first name. (Told you I was indecisive.)
The List:
Ava Grace, Natalie Grace, Sydney Grace (with a Y, of course), Mallory Grace, Abby Grace, Jessica Grace, Rory Grace, Grace Catherine, Grace Audrey(after both our grandmothers).

My father-in-law has also suggested we settle this with a "Wheel of Fortune"-type wheel to be spun at the baby shower. I'm filing that one under M for Maybe.

Escape From Retail.

Some of you may be wondering how I'm making out in my new position as a Manny/Butler/Pool Boy/Etc. Fear not, I'm doin' alright. I'm very fortunate to have landed in a great situation, For example, today, I helped build a Lego racetrack, played catch, played Wii, went to the movies and went swimming. Not a bad gig if you can get it. Some of my other "duties" thus far: playing tennis, firing Nerf dart guns, painting birdhouses, helping craft a medieval sword and shield and monitoring the Slip 'n Slide. Oh, there is other stuff (driving, learning to maintain the pool, helping with homework), but those responsibilities pale in comparison to the fun I have hanging out with and helping the Z-man. I've also been masquerading as a handyman. I've fixed window hardware, hung stuff, and even repaired the garage door opener. It's almost like I know what I'm doing.

I do, however, miss books. I've been reading a bunch because we went over two weeks without cable. (And I didn't die from lack of TV exposure. Shocking.) But I still miss books. I miss talking about them with customers and co-workers. I even miss ( a little) setting displays of books. I was never a great merchandiser of books, but it was fun to get a little creative when building displays. What I don't miss is selling books. The actual interaction with clueless customers was sometimes enough to make you want to gouge out an eye with a screwdiver if only because it would be less painful than trying to help some asshat find a book. Sample dialogue from the customer service desk:

Asshat Customer (AC): You're gonna hate me, I have a stupid question.
Me: Too late for that. What's you're question?
AC: Well, I saw a book on TV this morning and I'd like to find it, but I was too stupid/lazy to write down the relevant information. Can you help me find it?
Me:You bet. Do you know the title?
AC: No, it was about politics and had a red cover and I think it had The in the title.
Me:Do you know the author?
AC:No, but it was a woman. I think. Wait, it could have been a man. Or a chimpanzee.
Me:You saw this just this morning, not twelve years ago, right? What show was it? I can search it that way.
AC: Oh, you know the one on in the morning. The Early Today America Show. You know, the one with the weatherman.
After ten minutes of fruitless keyword searching...
AC: Oh, there it is on that display there.
Me: Oh that book about religion with the blue cover? The one that is nothing like your description?

I could go on, but who needs that? Certainly not those who have lived it. Instead, I think I'll go for another lap in the pool.

"Start Saving For The Wedding."

Today has been a good day. Wait, let me rephrase because that was a gross understatement. Today has been an awesome, superfantastic, great day. Amanda had her level II ultrasound today which revealed, in glorious 4D imaging, that our daughter appears healthy and on track. That's right, I said daughter. We are having a girl and I am over the moon excited. We didn't care if it was a boy or girl, I was just ecstatic to see fingers, toes, four heart chambers, spinal cord. etc, etc. (Let me stop gushing. Screw that, I just found out we're having a daughter, I'll gush all I want.)

For weeks, Amanda and I have weighed whether we should find out the gender of the baby. We agreed that there are few surprises left in life, yet we are planner people and needed to know. We are also indecisive so sitting in the waiting room this morning we flipped a coin. Heads we'd find out, tails we wouldn't. Heads it was, so we found out. The Doc told me to start saving for the wedding. I asked that he let me get college paid for first. In truth, though, all the future worries can wait a little longer; today I can relax and thank God that we have a baby girl on the way.

Time Flies When...

I can't believe it has been nearly one month since I have posted. Alas, grown-up responsibilities and some major life changes -moving, a new job, Amanda's graduation, pregnancy (her, not me), not to mention still not having an internet connection at the new place have conspired to keep me from writing. All that should change soon, however, so please keep checking back because I do have some good stories pertaining to all these life altering events. Stay tuned.

Tragic? Yes. Enough Coverage? No.

In case you missed it Saturday, the Kentucky Derby was marred by the injury to, and subsequent on-track euthanizing of, Eight Belles, the only filly in the field. The death, tragic to be sure, has once again brought the safety and possible cruelty of horse racing into question. That is a complicated debate and one about which I am too uninformed to discuss intelligently.

I'd rather focus on NBC's decision to not show the injury during its broadcast. The filly pulled up lame after crossing the finish line as NBC's live shot was focused on the winning horse and jockey so the injury was missed live. However, NBC never did show a replay of what happened to Eight Belles. The network briefly showed the horse lying on the track and rapidly reported the information that track doctors relayed including the news that the injuries were so catastrophic that immediate euthanization was required. I, like many people, don't like to see animals in distress. To have shown, if video exists, the horse writhing or being euthanized would have been tasteless, but I do think NBC should have shown the taped video of the injury as it occured; the injury is part of the story of the race. Perhaps warn people to look away if they like or run a disclaimer, however, I think the injury itself is newsworthy enough to show. Many of those watching with me, including one horse owner and lover, were genuinely curious about what actually happened.

Sports networks have routinely shown gruesome replays of human injuries. Joe Theismann's compound leg fracture, Robin Ventura's foot turned unnaturally sideways as he slides across homeplate and Tim Krumrie's leg flopping helplessly through the Super Bowl air are all enough to make you queasy, yet they were replayed and analyzed. I understand that none of these men had to be put down on the playing field and maybe that's the difference. Obviously, the real issue is the sad demise of a beautiful horse on Saturday, I simply think NBC should have shown more of the story.

Keep an Open Mind.

Well, anybody who thought Barack Obama's former pastor Jeremiah Wright was going to stay in the background until November was mistaken. Wright spoke last night at an NAACP conference and today at a National Press Club symposium. I tuned in last night to watch the speech in its entirety because I didn't want to rely on sound bites alone. His message was one of defending the black church, but mostly he pushed the idea that, whether it be churchgoers, students or citizens, that different is not deficient. Different but equal. Watched in total his message resonates, yet as I watched I could pick out the sound bites that the media would likely seize upon this morning. Indeed, headlines and video clips this morning picked the most controversial (though they really weren't) statements that he made. I am often quick to judge and I urge anyone who forms an opinion based solely on the clips to watch or read the speech in full.

There is little doubt that Wright is a blatant self-promoter, a trait that I believe diminishes his message. His points can be lost in his sometimes clownish need to turn heads and drop jaws. He, and I understand he doesn't care because he is a pastor not a politician, didn't do Obama any favors. What impact putting himself in the spotlight has on Obama remains to be seen.

Is it October yet?

Two video clips stand out from the aftermath of last night's heartbreaking Caps OT loss. To see them you have to sift through the fog of disappointment, anger and hatred of the Flyers. To see them you have to stop thinking, "Same old Caps, teasing me just so they can rip my heart out." The first clip was watching Alex Ovechkin in the handshake line. The second clip was of Ovechkin's postgame locker room interview with reporters. The kid gets it. He responded to a bitter defeat with the poise of a veteran. He enumerated the postives, spoke with pride about the team's accomplishments and looked to the future. Any fan of this team must realize that we have a special guy here, on and off the ice. The Caps should be positioned to make many playoff runs in the near future. Maybe learning to crawl before you walk is just the way it has to be. Many a great NHL player-Howe, Gretzky, Lemeuix, LaFleur- failed to win their first playoff series. All went on to win many. Michael Jordan took merciless playoff beatings at the hands of the Detroit Pistons before growing into a six-time champion. It's difficult to be patient, but we fans must. We have a superstar, a leader, a veteran despite his years here that will lead this talented team to more disappointing losses and hopefully a bunch of thrilling victories.

I said I would be happy no matter the outcome in Round 1 simply because the Caps made it in. Maybe proud is the better word because this morning I am certainly not happy. To get that close and lose leaves me so bitter I might have to cling to guns or religion. The Caps had so many chances to put the game away early and late that I had the feeling it was going to end the way it did. They dominated the third period without putting home the game winner. Ovechkin had the series on his stick, but chose to pass to Federov. If it connects we celebrate Ovechkin as an unselfish superstar (which he is), instead we're left to wonder what would have happened if the best goal scorer in the league had shot the puck.

Much has been made of the controversial calls costing the Caps. Every team that wins a playoff series must overcome questionable officiating; it is not the reason the Caps lost that game. The OT power play was justified, in fact, John Erskine should have been called for a tripping minor 30 seconds earlier. As for the Thoreson wipeout of Morrison and Huet that left the easy second goal? The more I watch the replay(and I've watched it a lot) I understand why there was no call. I'm not saying there couldn't have been a call, but I get why there wasn't. The NHL has said that Morrison played the puck and that's why Thoreson was allowed to check him. I don't know that Morrison played the puck, but the puck was certainly close enough that calling interference is dicey. Also remember that Caps fans are watching that play through a prism of their goalie being run all series. Tough no call, after cooling off I get it. I don't love it, but I get it.

There will be many more chances for the Washington Capitals to make pleasant playoff memories. It hurts like hell today, however, this is a team that underachieved before December not one that overachieved after. Better days await.

What Now?

Clean. Dirty. Trapping. Wide open. It seems no matter which style the Philadelphia Flyers employ, the Washington Capitals can't find a way to beat them. Last night's 2OT loss was prbably the final nail in the coffin that buries Alex Ovechkin's first playoff experience. Throughout the series, even when playing well, the Caps just seemed a smidge short of really making me believe they could win the series. Let's be real, if not for a stunning comeback in Game 1 this series would literally be over. The Flyers have played great, bottling up OV and riding the hot goaltending of the usually average Martin Biron. I wish the Caps had lost last night's game in regulation on the bogus power play awarded to Philly when Viktor Kozlov was checked into Biron. It would have saved me a teeth-gnashing 30 minutes of overtime. Plus, I could have gone ape shit and had something to shout at my TV about. As it was, the Caps played well enough to come up just short. No penalty injustice, no dirty play; they lost because they were outworked at the goal mouth at a really bad time.

Really, what was there to complain about as the game wore on last night? I, with my meager pro hockey knowledge, had made a pregame list of things that the Caps needed to do to win Game 4 and make it a series. The bitch of it is that they made every single adjustment( and I'm sure many others that I didn't think of) and they still lost. A quick rundown of my mental list:

Help Backstrom: Of all the Caps youngsters he has looked the most uncomfortable with rough-and-tumble playoff hockey. Boudreau moved him off the first line, alleviating some pressure, and Backstrom responded with a goal and assist. Yet, it wasn't enough.

Put the power back in the power play: For most of the series Philly has been dirtier than my boxer shorts on Taco Tuesday. (For the record, the last part of that sentence is fiction. I eat my tacos on Wednesday.) The Caps needed to heat up the PP to discourage the Flyers from taking lots of penalties. After the Caps cashed in on a 5 on 3 created when dirtbags Briere and Hatcher delivered wicked slashes, the Flyers began to play smarter. The Caps potted two PP goals doubling their output for the series, yet it wasn't enough.

Spectacular goaltending: In the playoffs your goalie has to be your best player, making saves that he probably shouldn't-in effect stealing a goal. Cristobal Huet did that during his hot push for the playoffs, but hadn't in this series. Until tonight. He made several acrobatic diving saves keeping the Caps in the game. Yet, it wasn't enough.

Washington also cut down on their turnovers, boneheaded mistakes and poor passes. They delivered hits instead of being pushed around. Yet, it still wasn't enough.

I had said before the Caps qualified for the playoffs that I wouldn't care if they got swept in Round 1 as long as they made it in the tournament. I feel getting in has been a milestone for the franchise's comeback and this experience, however bitter, will serve them well in the future. I predicted the Flyers in six, so the Caps can throw me a bone by winning Saturday to prolong the agony. Of course, there is still a little piece of me (the stupid, I should have been a Cubs fan, glutton for punishment piece) that believes the Cardiac Caps have the Flyers right where they want them.
As CapsChick correctly points out, there is a precedent.

This Never Gets Old.

Just a reminder of a rivalry renewed.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6rg2EiSBZ6Y

Let The Beards Begin.

Whew! So the Caps are in the postseason for the first time since '03. (Yes, Jagr actually got them there once.) The hottest team in hockey ran off 10 wins in 11 games to sneak past Carolina to win the Southeast Division title on the second-to-last day of the season. For fans the last two weeks have been nerve-wracking, anxious, exciting and, above all, fun. The Caps have essentially been in the playoffs for nearly a month as they were on the outside looking in for most of the season. The games lately have had a (cliche alert!) playoff intensity and the fans in the stands and in my living room have been hanging on every loose puck. My pacing (I haven't actually sat down during a third period in like six games), jumping, cursing, contorting and hoping proved so entertaining to Amanda last Thursday that she felt compelled to take these pictures.

The Capitals have a feel about them that they haven't had in many moons. Alex Ovechkin and his merry band of youngsters has inspired a city to "rock the red" and support this team. Diehard fans finally have something to cheer about again after the dark period of lockouts, fire sales and bad, bad hockey. On one hand this team is exactly on pace to fulfill Ted Leonsis's plan to rebuild their way to prominence. The young players acquired by selling off veteran fixtures four years ago are beginning to pay dividends. On the other hand, this team seems as unlikely as any to reach the postseason. Sure, they have a superstar talent in Ovechkin, but beyond that they are still a whole that is far better than its separate parts. Although, I suppose that is the makeup of many championship teams. A rumpled minor league coach, a goalie dumped way too early by his former club, a savvy veteran center with a Stanley Cup pedigree and a dozen guys that will outwork you every night- oh, and the current greatest player on the planet; this sounds like a club that could make a run.

I do, however, urge caution. The Caps could make a great playoff run, but if they will remains to be seen. Ovie, as great as he is, will be on the big stage for the first time. The kid seems unflappable and ready for anything, yet you never know. The team has been so hot that you figure they have to cool at some point, right? Having five days off won't help in that regard. Finally, they are renewing a playoff rivalry with the wretched Philadelphia Flyers who are trying to recast themselves as the Broad Street Bullies again. I've said all month that if the Caps could get in the tournament I wouldn't care how they performed because just getting in is a milestone on the journey back to success. I'll be dissapointed if they get housed by the Flyers, but it won't erase the strides this team has made. Simply tasting playoff hockey will benefit the Caps in the future. Optimism rightly abounds in DC and I hope they make one long, exciting, pace-inducing run.

Merry Opening Day!

Forget MLB in Japan. Forget the opener of Nationals Park last night. Today is the real opening day. Hope springs eternal on one of the great sports days on the calendar. Even the Orioles, for a few more hours at least, are undefeated.

In honor of the O's opener I've posted this link to a YouTube video of former O's Superfan Wild Bill Hagy (RIP Wild Bill, RIP). If you were an O's fan in the 80's you know that Wild Bill was the scraggily-bearded cabby that led the crowd in cheers-most notably spelling out O-R-I-O-L-E-S from the upper deck. The video is kinda long (about 7 minutes), but I promise it is entertaining from start to finish. A Baltimore news magazine follows Wild Bill through a typical gameday experience. From cab, to bar, to game and beyond. You'll laugh and be wistful for those days when the O's were actually competitive.

Today also marks my first foray into fantasy baseball. I'm hoping for some beginner's luck this summer, but I'm afraid I'm off to a foreboding start. My starting second baseman has been placed on the disabled list to heal from an anal fissure. That can't be good; hopefully that doesn't mean my fantasy team is in for a similar fate.

So Convoluted, I Had To Root For The Bleeping Rangers.

Leave it to playoff hockey to get me off my ass to write again. I say playoff hockey because, even though the regular season isn't over, the race for the last spots in the Eastern Conference is essentially do-or-die each night. The Caps, after tonight's shootout win in Carolina are 2 points out of eighth place and 4 points out of the division lead. It couldn't be much tighter and my heart couldn't be beating much faster. With the Caps stinking in recent years I had forgotten how fun/difficult/gut wrenching that it can be to watch these games. I lean in to every shot, wince at every pinged post and generally dance around like a dope. Tonight, I didn't sit for the entire third period. I'm not sure I'll make it if the Caps actually reach the postseason.

Tonight's Caps game had all the disheartening elements of previous Washington playoff disappointments. As a Caps fan you almost expect the fluky deflection from 40 feet out and a goal that should have been waved off because Erik Cole plowed into the goalie's head before the puck scooted across the line. (I know the defenseman pushed Cole into Huet, but that was only after Cole initiated contact with the goalie.) The dubious refereeing was also disappointing. By dubious, I don't mean bias or favoritism against Washington; if anything I think the NHL would want Ovechkin and the Caps in the playoffs. I just think the officiating is as poor as it is inconsistent. Numerous hooks, holds, trips and cross-checks went uncalled while both teams were nailed for silly, ticky-tack infractions. Make up your mind zebras-call them all or none.

Despite all the disheartening stuff I still believe, if they get in (which is a huge if), that this Caps team can slay the Ghost of Playoffs Past. Alex Ovechkin and the other youngsters have a determination and resillency that past teams have lacked. They will certainly make things exciting. Like eight years as President prematurely ages a man, I think eight weeks of playoff hockey might speed my calendar. Oh well, I'd gladly wash that gray right outta my hair (which I need to do anyway) in exchange for attending a Stanley Cup parade.

"Get on your bikes and ride!"

Figuring that I need to do more to raise my heart rate than put more salt on my fries, I've been riding my bicycle lately in an effort to get more fit. I have a simple coaster-brake, beach cruiser that is a blast to ride. I rarely have a destination; the fun is in the journey. Besides, most destination trips would be problematic. For instance, I can't carry shopping bags and I wouldn't want to show up at work pouring sweat. Riding my bike makes me feel young again, racing across the town the same way my friends and I did in the pre-driver's license days. I know that I don't look young, however, and I think that explains the funny looks I get from passing drivers.

In auto-centric America people seem genuinely perplexed as to why I would ride a bike when I could drive. I get looks that say, "Oh look, that poor dear is too stupid to know that someone invented a machine made of steel, rubber and glass that allows you to travel without manually propelling yourself."

The second look I get is a mix of disdain and pity. "A bike? Well that guy must not have a car or worse yet, is homeless because otherwise he wouldn't be on a bike." Granted, I'm dressed neither for fashion nor obvious fitness cycling. (No spandex here, thank you.) A beat-up sweatshirt, ragged shorts, backpack and tobogan possess a tiny whiff of poverty. (Or coach of the New England Patriots.) On cold days I may even be forced to don that symbol of giving up on life-the sweatpant. I feel like showing the passing motorists that my bag is not loaded with all my belongings, but only some keys, a water bottle and a wallet that sometimes even has money in it.

If passing motorists think I ride because I must, there is another group that thinks my cycling is completely contrived. I sometimes cut across campus at off peak hours because it is one of the few places in town to ride without worrying about traffic. The students cast glances that say, "Nice try, buddy, but we know you're old. No luck fitting in here." I feel like a pervert suspected of riding across campus for the sole purpose of stealing glances at co-eds. Really, it's just becuase I prefer to not be hit by cars. (The exception-The first warm day of spring when every red-blooded man in town wishes he had a justifiable excuse to be on campus.)

The only demographic that gets me and my riding habit is the shabbily dressed walkers I pass on the road. A nod or wave welcomes me to their club of car-free travelers. Maybe they too are out for fitness or possibly to save some gas money. Nah, they are probably just homeless.

Caps Go Deadline Dealing.

Well, well, well. Caps GM George McPhee didn't exactly stand pat at the NHL trading deadline, did he? Adding some parts without mortaging the future, McPhee made it known that the Caps are serious about making the playoffs this year. Let's tackle the moves in order of interest. Matt Cooke, a gritty veteran winger, was added for depth with a price of Matt Pettinger. Pettinger, a once promising youngster and two-time 20 goal scorer, needed a change of scenery. He played a role on this current Caps club that is being filled, and better frankly, by other young players.

Next comes the addition of Sergei Federov. If it were 1994 I'd be doing backflips and the Caps would have had to give up much more than a defenseman drafted last year. That being said, I am excited to see Fedorov in Washington. While not nearly the dominant two-way player he once was, Federov, at age 38, is a playoff tested veteran who adds buckets of experience to a team searching for an identity as it makes its playoff push. Also, don't discount Federov's ability to mentor young Ovechkin and Semin, Russian stars who likely worshipped Federov as kids.

The most interesting move is the trade for goalie Cristobal Huet. At nearly 33, Huet gives the Caps some goaltending options for the future. As for this season, coach Bruce Boudreau now has his hands full. Boudreau and no. 1 goalie Olie Kolzig haven't seen eye to eye and clearly this move is a signal that McPhee and Boudreau have lost some faith in Kolzig's ability to close out games. This is tough for me as a fan. Kolzig is the unquestioned locker room leader, fan favorite and happens to be the only Caps goalie who has had real success in the playoffs. However, his save percentage has slipped below .900 and it has appeared at times this season that Kolzig feels every one of his 37 years. Huet may be the answer, but I'm sure installing him in the top spot would be met with resistance. It would be hard for me to envision the Caps making a playoff run without Kolzig in net. Something just wouldn't feel right. He has given the organization the last three years while the team in front of him has stunk. This bears serious watching.

Then again, seeing the Caps make a playoff run with any goalie is still more pipe dream than certainty. i am excited by today's trades and optomistic they'll work, but this team has a lot of work to do with 18 games remaining. The good news is that the boys and I have tickets to Saturday's game, so we can get an up close look at mad scientist McPhee's latest experiment. He acquired a lot for a little. Let's see if the pieces fit in time to make the top 8 and beyond.

When Good Food Goes Bad.

So, I'm on Hypochondria High Alert. Dying of a food borne illness is on my list of top five greatest fears. It seems lately the gods of food prep are teasing me, causing my worry gene to work overtime. Usually I take extreme care to make sure food is cooked properly, my hands are clean, etc. For instance, on Tuesday I purchased a plastic bottle of iced tea from a convenience store. When the lid popped off way too easily, not even breaking the plastic ring I knew I had wasted 99 cents because there was no way I was drinking that tea. I had outsmarted whatever devious factory worker had messed with my tea. Nice try, tea tainter.

In the last 24 hours, however, I have tempted fate. First, I was convinced I would be taken out by some contaminated supermarket chowder. We pulled two empty cups off the stack but only needed one. When I went to put the extra back I noticed the third cup on the stack was covered in some sort of clear, perhaps industrial, liquid. Amanda convinced me that the cup she had subsequently filled with corn chowder was not the one that had touched the greasy, petroleum-covered third cup. I was dubious, yet my lust for tasty food won out and I ate the chowder anyway.

Then, when we got home, I made chicken soft tacos with all the fixings, including sour cream. Only after enjoying the tacos did I realize that the seam on the bottom of the plastic sour cream container was split ever so slightly. With my head suddenly swimming I tried to convince myself that the container ruptured in our fridge and not six weeks ago in the warehouse. Because if it had ruptured anytime earlier than in my fridge I know that Bryan-killing bacteria has rushed in waiting to unleash its destructive evil on an unsuspecting Bryan.

For now, I am showing no outward signs of my food attacking me. But I know my insides are being slowly turned to goo as the bacteria vanquishes my white blood cells. Pray for me.

The Rocket and the Rat.

Even though my work schedule allowed for it, I didn't plan to watch the entire Congressional hearing held yesterday to further investigate steroid use in baseball. It only took a short while for me to be sucked in, however. Like the cliched car wreck that you can't take your eyes off of, once I tuned in I couldn't tune out until it was over. An argument could be made that the Committee for Government Oversight should be meddling in baseball's business because baseball has an anti-trust exemption. I tend to disagree and believe yesterday's circus was silly and unnecessary. Of course, that doesn't mean it didn't provide plenty of entertainment.

One thing that struck me immediately was the way the questions/accusations from the committee members broke along party lines. For the most part, Republicans had Roger Clemens' back and Democrats defended Brian McNamee. My uncle and I, in e-mails back and forth last night, couldn't figure out the partisanship angle. This morning a commentator cleared it up for me. Former Senator George Mitchell, author of the damning Mitchell Report in which McNamee accuses Clemens of HGH and steroid use, is a Democrat. So, the Dems on the committee wanted to support Mitchell and his report. Like yesterday's entire circus, this is a little sad, but makes sense.


The biggest problem I had with the hearing is that I now have no better idea of who is lying than I did before the hearing. Neither Clemens, nor McNamee backed an inch off their stories. It seems obvious to say that because their stories are completely opposite that one of them has to be lying, but they were both so discredited that I have come to believe that the hearing took place in some alternate dimension where they are both simultaneously lying and telling the truth. Neither party looked good. McNamee admitted to lying about lots of stuff just not about Clemens. Clemens stumbled through answers and changed the subject any chance he could get. In fact, it was similar to watching politicians answer debate questions so maybe the Congressmen felt right at home. There were too many great moments to pick a favorite, but the one I wanted to see never fully materialized. At one point Clemens was on the ropes with questions that he wasn't handling very well. He was getting frustrated, his voice was rising and his face was getting red. I was rooting for him to go Colonel Nathan Jessup from a A Few Good Men-


Congressman (gulping down water):Did you take steroids and HGH?
Clemens:I did what I had to do.
Congressman:Did you take steroids and HGH?
Clemens: YOU'RE GOD DAMN RIGHT I DID!


Alas, Clemens kept his composure and we were left without our "aha" moment. Another thing now missing is my faith in our legislators. Even if I stipulate that this hearing was necessary, I am still dissappointed in the committee members. A few words to describe that lot: starstruck, clueless, inattentive, uninformed, confused, out of touch, pompous, self-righteous and out to play "gotcha". They should be playing Perry Mason on their own time, not the taxpayers'.

Finally, I want to share a few of the phrases that came from the testimony that may not have made the evening news.

Clemens repeatedly used the word "misremember" which I had never heard used before and sent people scrambling for their dictionaries (it's in there).
There was testimony about Clemens "bleeding through his dress pants".
And my personal favorite-There was much discussion of and considerable speculation about "a palpable mass on his right buttocks".

I can't top that.

1990's No Longer.

It's apparent, at least from the public drubbings two 90's icons are taking today, that the 1990's are over. The spotlight is shining awfully bright on both Hillary Clinton and Roger Clemens as they struggle to repair reputations and wage different, yet similar campaigns to win public favor.

Clinton has run her losing streak to eight straight primary/caucus defeats to Barack Obama. Uncle Mo' is clearly in Obama's corner as his call for change may just be catching on with voters. For a while Clinton's camp could dismiss Obama's support because the groundswell of attention wasn't translating into actual votes, but that may have changed. He is gaining traction and Clinton's arrogance about being the presumptive nominee may be her undoing. All of her staff changes may be too little, too late. The "Oh well, we'll wait for Texas and Ohio" has a whiff of Guiliani's misguided "wait for Florida" strategy.

Clemens can also blame his arrogance for the pile he's standing in right now. The evidence, with Andy Petitte's testimony being the most damning to date, is heavily stacked against him. Clemens has boxed himself in with angry denials and his tasteless glad-handing of members of the congressional committee. (And shame on the congressmen who got Clemens' autograph and picture as he went door to door on Capitol Hill.) I don't care if Clemens is guilty of perjury; I really don't think any of this should be played out in Congress. Surely the greatest law-making body in the land has more important things to do than monitor grown men playing a child's game. (Oh yeah, some of them do, they are shirking their duties to run for President.) I do, however, want to see the truth about Clemens revealed. My day would be made today if he had the cajones to stop the proceedings this morning and admit on national tv that he took steroids and HGH. I would respect Clemens so much more for that, rather than carrying on what appears to be this sloppy charade. I would know he was a cheat and wouldn't want him in the Hall of Fame, but at least he and his blowhard attorney could skulk off to the shadows.

The thing that most unifies Clinton and Clemens, though, is the fact that their demises may be predicted too early. The pundits could be completely mistaken in both cases. Clinton is essentially tied with Obama in the delegate count and she could easily make up ground if she decides to get nasty. As for Clemens, as unlikely as I think this is, he could be the one that looks honorable and trustworthy after today's hearing. And here's a crazy idea:maybe he's actually telling the truth about not taking performance enhancing drugs. But I'll believe that when I see the grunge-rocking pigs fly by.

Copycaps?

I have mentioned previously that I love the fact that the Washington Caps returned to red, white and blue uniform colors but that I wasn't sold on either of the new logos. I like the secondary logo even less now. After seeing the Whataburger (and really it should probably be Kindaokayaburger) sign all over Texas I am convinced the Caps ripped the logo from this burger joint. Did "marketing genius" Ted L. scan some graphic design encyclopedia for ideas? You be the judge.

Thank You, Peter Angelos

Thank you Mr. Angelos, by trading Erik Bedard you saved me 25 dollars this spring. No, not on a ticket; I'll likely still go to a game because I'm a sucker and there are few things better than a sunny afternoon at Camden Yards. You saved me 25 dollars because instead of the the new O's cap I needed to buy I'll be wearing a paper bag over my head. That's right, by trading away one of the last quality pieces of your team, you've reduced O's fans to feel like Saints' or Jets' fans of old-too embarassed to show our faces at the park.

I understand the trade and, truthfully, have mixed feelings about it. Bedard was to be the only reason to get excited about the team every five days. Now, there is little to look forward to this season. On the other hand, I understand the need to raze the team, taking it to street level before building it back up. Andy McPhail, by trading Tejada, Bedard and likely Brian Roberts, has stockpiled some arms and, to an extent, replenished the minor league system. McPhail's track record suggests he should be trusted and this may be a sign that Angelos is finally letting his baseball people make the baseball decisions.

I also take some hope from the example the Capitals have set. They sold off many of their expensive parts, stunk for two years, but now are competeing for a playoff spot with a younger, retooled model. The discouraging difference with the Orioles, however, is that , while they have some very good young prospects, I don't think they have a marquee centerpiece like Alex Ovechkin. Asking more patience of Orioles fans is a tricky proposition considering it's been ten seasons since they've had a winning season and haven't won the World Series since 1983. Ah, well, at least I can sew my 25th anniversary World Series patch to my paper bag.

Texas Travelogue:Part Three

Texas Travelogue:Part Two

So, after a couple days in San Antonio we headed north to complete the main mission of our journey, to visit Rob T and his awesome family. Here are some highlights of that portion of the trip. Bear in mind that Austin's city motto is "Keep Austin Weird".
*The best part was hanging with the T family, cutting up, reminiscing, goofing off and, of course, meeting their daughter for the first time. As a side note-If you want a good laugh search YouTube for some clips of Dr. Steve Brule. Stupid funny. Thanks Rob.
*We played tourist one day, visiting the state capitol building. I sat at the Governor's desk where every bill has been signed into Texas law. While sitting in the chair I stifled the urge to mispronounce nuclear and order someone's execution.
*One of the first things you notice about Austin as you leave the airport is the highways. They have highways built over highways; giant overpasses that remind me of toy slot race tracks that loop over themselves. Think Route 1 in Delaware being built above Rt 13 instead of around Dover.
*The scenery is beautiful. From Lake Travis, a filled former quarry, to numerous parks and open spaces there is a ton of outdoor activities available. We can't wait to go back in the warmer months to enjoy the outdoors more because we just scratched the surface.
*We had the best BBQ beef brisket I've ever tasted at a place called Rudy's. At Rudy's they don't even give you plates; they slap a pound of brisket on wax paper on a tray. Then they rip open a loaf of bread throw a handful of slices on the tray and send you on your way. I had the delicious regular cut only because I was afraid that if I had eaten the "extra moist" marbled fat cut my heart would have stopped before I pushed away from the table. But I must say the sinful sample bite I had of the extra moist may be the single best thing I have ever tasted. Seriously.
*Combining two of my favorite things, the Alamo Drafthouse Cinema serves dinner during the movie. Given that one of my biggest pet peeves is people who talk during movies I was a bit dubious that this was a good concept. I am happy to report that they have a system that works flawlessly and I enjoyed my Royale with Cheese and Five Dollar Shake as we laughed our asses off watching Juno. They also have really cool theme nights and crazy activites. I think in the weeks after we left they were hosting a regional final for the World Air Guitar Championships and Will Ferrell was coming to pimp his new basketball movie.
*When we travel I like to photograph signs and marquees that are funny, strange or unique. Austin was full of signs like this and that sort of symbolizes what we liked about the city. It has an offbeat, artistic, creative feel that just feels good. From the neon sign for the brothel-turned-motel that is shaped like genitalia to world famous grafitti art, this town indeed keeps it weird. Austin is also the cleanest city I've ever visited. Of course, it's competition in that category mostly consists of Baltimore, Washington, Philadelphia and New Orleans.
*Thanks T family, we can't wait to come back.

Upcoming in Part Three:Vacation pictures that you are not forced to sit through.