Wednesday, August 31, 2005

What's your fantasy?

Calling all blogging fantasy football-ers! We want you!

DC Sports and The Butterfly Network are running a Fantasy Football League via Yahoo! and we’re kinda in need of more teams. So if you’re into it competitively or casually send an e-mail to dcsportsguys @ (no spaces, of course) and I’ll forward you the registration e-mail. The draft is tomorrow so act now!

Darn it

I don’t get it.

Washington Redskins release Darnerian McCants

Really? Our prototypical tall red zone receiver? The man had hands and could catch almost anything, including a brief reception of Vivica A. Fox (evidently he bobbled that one and, upon further review, did not bring it in and make a football move before losing control). Most of the cuts I don’t particularly care about (Bryson Spinner, Billy Baber, Josh Warner, Jason Campbell… Oh, my mistake, we only wasted a draft pick on the last guy), but Darnerian’s release stood out like a Cowgirls fan at Redskins Fan Appreciation Day. Well, onward and upward. Thursday night is the preseason finale against the Ravens. There’s no reason to play the starters for long, if at all, so I just hope we make it through without any injuries.

Good luck, Darnerian. Here’s hoping you land somewhere.

Monday, August 29, 2005

Alpha Soccer Omega

I love my fellow soccer players. I’m not saying that this is restricted only to footballers as a group, but I feel like we’re a closely-knit fraternity. I really haven’t come around to noticing this until now, since I’ve been hurt and on the sidelines (ironic, that I’d notice something about soccer players when I’m not actually on the field). When I walk around the supermarket or CVS or around the building here at work, very rarely do I get a random person asking me what happened or how it happened or anything about my obviously-injured foot. But when I’m at the field, players I’ve never met before will ask, “what happened to you?”… “how long are you out?”…”who’s your doctor?” And then I get, ”you should consider [suggested doctor here]”…”get well soon”…”take care of yourself.” Did I mention that many of these conversations happen with players I’ve never met? Now, this isn’t to say that soccer players are the only concerned parties, but I’m absolutely appreciative of the collective concern expressed by the group of them. Even a couple of people that have spoken to me about my foot outside of soccer situations have turned out to actually be soccer players that suffered similar injuries.

I’m sure there are others of you who experience the same sort of camaraderie in your hobby of choice - common interest is a bond easily discovered and opens doors to all kinds of things. While it’s unfortunate that it took getting hurt to see it for what it is, I’m glad to have so many wonderful soccer fraternity brothers and sisters out there.

Sunday, August 28, 2005

For my father

Of the many blessings I've had in life, a wonderful father I count among the most important. Whether I was willing to accept it, whether I fought it, he has always been there with advice, support, and an occasional slap upside the head when it was necessary.

My parents divorced when I was nine. I know it hurt my father, but he was strong for me through it all. He continued to be a coach, a teacher, a rock, and a friend. I can't thank him enough.

My father has met a wonderful woman, Diane. After 14 years, he will be getting remarried this weekend at our family reunion in Pennsylvania. I couldn't be happier for him.

This last Friday, my father, myself, his brother Jeff and five friends went to Carlyle Grand restaurant in Shirlington, to celebrate his new marriage with a bachelor dinner. It was one of the best dinners I have had in a long time, made tastier by the impending event. Here's my rundown:

1 Tex-Mex Eggroll (taken from someone else)
1 bowl of Lobster Bisque
1 glass of the House Lager

1 5oz. Filet Mignon - medium
1 Jumbo Lump Crabcake
Asparagus and Au Gratin potatoes
1 Vodka with Cranberry Juice

House Dessert - Chocolate Waffle w/ vanilla ice cream
1 scotch

You can see why I haven't eaten much in the past 24 hours since. I'm sure I'll be going back to this place again. Anyway, here are some pictures from the night, there will be more from the wedding sometime next week.

The whole group, from left to right: Uncle Jeff, my father, The Captain, and a large group of friends. Turns out the man in the yellow shirt is now officially the dirtiest old man I know, but we'll save that for another time.

Uncle Jeff and my father. Can you tell they're brothers? They're also the two youngest of seven children.

Dave and John, two friends of my fathers. They're all baseball umpires, a common bond of many of the men that were in attendance.

Bill looking sophisticated drinking his wine. On the right is Tony, who was the groom at the last wedding, #4 that I attended this summer.

The Captain with his father. Luckily, the receding hairline gene has skipped me, at least for the time being. I thought this one came out fantastic.

That's really all. On September 4th, his birthday, my father will enter married life once more. I love you Dad, I wouldn't be nearly the man I am without you.

Friday, August 26, 2005

What the hell is with parents?

Anyone who played sports as a child is probably familiar with overbearing parents. I was lucky, my father was a pretty happy go lucky sort of guy. Through years of coaching in soccer and baseball, the only time I can remember him losing it was when a soccer referee chopped twenty minutes off of a game. So that he could go to a birthday party. Thats it. Of course, there were always a few blowhards, parents whose kids were afraid to fail, who I'm sure played only because their parents wanted them to in some cases.

This was brought to mind again the past couple weeks watching the Little League world Series. Man, have people gotten more intense with age, or was my time in the late 80's/early 90's just a peaceful period? On T.V., while miked no less, I heard coaches yelling at kids, yelling at coaches on the other team, and yelling at the umpires far beyond a normal arguing of calls. Wake up guys. These kids are 11 and 12 years old. The umpires are volunteers, not paid workers. If your team loses, there's no money lost. Get over yourselves.

This isn't an isolated thing either. Just yesterday, it was discovered that two of my co-workers have sons who play on rival high school football teams. Once this was discovered, they wouldn't shut up, talking trash to each other. Living through their kids. So very sad.

I was a fairly accomplished pitcher when I played high school and men's league afterwards. I have no doubt I could mold a son I had into a decent player as well. But I'll be damned if I'm going to push him into it. People like this make me sick.

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Link Updates

Alright...alright...alright, it's time for another link update from D.C. Sports. We've got six new ones, I'm sure they're already linked on a hundred other blogs, but every link counts. So with that in mind, the coveted "New Blog" link has been removed from Throwing Hammers, Painting D.C. Pink, D.C. Drama Girls and the D.C. Pussycat Doll.

It has been re-assigned to six new links. With that in mind, let's first welcome the Rock Creek Rambler, a man with solid opinions, and who has been on the D.C. scene for quite awhile. We also have Miss Penny Lane, a former member of the Cleavage Park Girls Club who has branched out on her own, and is a CPMC lady. Let us also welcome mainstays Direct Current, the Texas Cutie, and the D.C. Urban Family. Lastly, because we welcome all perspectives here at D.C. Sports, let's welcome Chip and Dale, from D.C. Gays of our Lives.

For those wondering, I will eventually put all these links in alphabetical order. It will be when I have nothing better to do. There will probably be one or two more major link updates. After that we'll need your help, recommendations, etc. I can only read so many blogs (while wasting time at work, usually) in one day, and I tend to be pretty loyal to those links I already have up. So if you comment on our blog, if you want a link put up, or if you have a good recommendation, let us know about it.

Also, I'll probably be removing links to people who seem to be giving up. For instance, 1710 and 2nd has been removed, as that blog has merged with The Swamp Pundette. Blogs will first be placed on "In Memoriam" status, then removed if nothing is said about them. With that in mind, does anyone know if The Cleavage Park Girls or The Cleveland Park Junior League are planning on starting back up?

I won another poker tournament tonight. Another 1400% return on investment. That's what I like to see happening.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005


Hi, I’m I-66. And this morning I’m pissed off.

[pre-emptive note: I plan on discussing the following with the offender. I attempted to do so last night but he came home after having had a few post-game beverages and was not capable of intelligent conversation... just so you all know I don't choose blogging as a forum for airing my dirty laundry - I just need to vent... a lot]

A little background… in addition to co-captaining our coed soccer team, I also am essentially the General Manager. On gameday I normally tend to have a lot of responsibility. I carry the player passes for most of my team (roughly 22 people, others carry their passes independently because they play for multiple teams). I have a sack of soccer balls (yes, I know) that I carry that people use to warm up and eventually lose during the course of a game because on a team of 20+ soccer-playing adults, only 3 or 4 appear to have soccer balls. I have to bring a roster sheet to give to the referees so they can check the players in. I am present for the coin toss. I bring a stepladder to help put up the net. I am the person the referees talk to when they have a message that needs to get to my team.

Since I’ve been hurt, and even when I was on crutches, I was still coming to games. While on crutches, I was unable to carry things really so Deep Cover carried the book of passes – they were in a small CD case - in his bag. I was there to hand them out and take them back, his bag was just the means of transportation for getting the passes to and from the games. Recently we had a game that I knew we were going to have to forfeit and, as a result, I did not attend. I left the passes with DC since he was going down to the fields just in case enough players showed up. We did not have enough, but the two teams scrimmaged since they were all there. Fast-forward a couple of weeks to last night. We had a game, one that counted, and I was going to be there. I was carrying things and asked DC before we left “you have the passes right?” so I could take them into my possession. Look of puzzlement. Head scratching. No f’king way. He looks through his bag. He has no idea where they are. He’s trying to come up with ideas. I slowly get more and more pissed.

Our league has a no pass no play policy. You must be fully registered before you can step onto the field, which includes having a signed player pass (which means, normally, getting a new player to sign a blank pass and submit to me a small headshot photo to put on the card, taking the stuff to the registrar and getting the card(s) laminated.). On the way to the field, after DC checked in his car to see if he had left them there, I called the commissioner to tell him what happened. He called the registrar who called me. We ironed out that we’d get a free run without passes for the game but that if we couldn’t find the passes we’d need to get new ones made – for everyone. We arrive at the field. I am seeing red. I go down and explain to the refs what the deal is and they’re understanding – I think I was aided by the fact that I know them. At this point I can’t articulate how infuriated I am. How the hell do you lose an entire CD CASE FULL OF PLAYER PASSES (note: passes dated back as far as 2003). I’m normally a pretty happy-go-lucky person who smiles a lot and when I’m bothered I can do a good job of concealing it and dealing with it when I choose, but even last night people were saying “are you ok?” when they’d see me. I call the team together and explain the problem and at the end of the game have those that were present sign blank passes and ask them to submit digital photos to me. The larger problem here is that I need to get passes signed for players that weren’t there. This involves synching up schedules and having one or the other of us (or both) be inconvenienced and have to drive to one or the other’s house or meet in-between, just to sign a little card. The problem I have is that I gave one person one responsibility and he couldn’t handle it. It figures that the one game I don’t go to is when something like this would happen. From now on it looks like I’ll have to do everything myself, whether I’m playing or not, because self-sufficiency appears to be a lost quality. DC has since apologized and that’s fine. I don’t often ask for help unless I absolutely have to - I don’t even want people to do things for me since I’ve been hurt, I’ve taken The Sports Dog for short walks around the corner hopping on one leg – so I won’t ask DC to help with the re-making of the passes… but shouldn’t he have offered to at least?


Discovered earlier today: This blog has now reached Los Angeles and Moreno Valley, California, and as far north as Mass.

DC Sports: Antarctica or bust!

What the F***...??

Okay, I'm just going to file this under "What the hell happened?"

THAT'S CARROT TOP!! This isn't right at all, this guy is supposed to be an annoying, obnoxious skinny little weasel. Now understand, I'm still 95% sure I could kick his ass, but there's doubt now where there was none before.

And yes, this has been verified as authentic, not photo-shopped. Roids? Fitness made Simple with John Basedow? Can someone explain to me what happened here?

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Of Mice and Elephants

Can we quit with the “Ricky Williams left his playbook in his hotel room” bit? He left a 2-page gameplan. Big f’king deal. Even Nick Saban said it was nothing compared to the other problems the Dolphins have. The media perseveres, however, insisting upon saying that he left his “playbook” in his hotel room and expressing outrage that he could be so forgetful. Please. A playbook is hundreds of pages (except maybe Chicago’s, which has just two plays: “duck” and “cover”), you don’t just leave that on the nightstand. So, let’s just bury this and forget it happened instead of trying to make Williams look more irresponsible than he actually is. Even Saban said it was “mouse manure” compared to elephant poo. Small problem, big problem. Hey, media, get it straight.

Strange Search-That-Leads-Here Of The Day: "pictures of dicks under 6 inches"

there are so many things wrong with that...

Monday, August 22, 2005

Swinging Gates

I don’t like contract holdouts. I think holding out is the absolute wrong way to go about it. I think if you sign a contract you are bound to play for the amount and period of time outlined by the contract. If you think you deserve more money, I think you had better bring your ass to work like a normal human being and negotiate through training camp. I think no team is obligated to give more money to a player just because they want it. I hate the Philadelphia Eagles, but I think their contract practices are dead on.

All of the above is why I think the San Diego Chargers won a small battle for teams all over the league this weekend when Antonio Gates stopped crying and reported to camp on Sunday. The Chargers surprised me by threatening to suspend Gates if he didn’t report by Saturday, and (not surprisingly) following through on it, ensuring that Gates will not play in their season opener (not that it really matters, they’re playing the Cowgirls). Why didn’t Gates report Saturday and avoid suspension? Did he think the Chargers wouldn’t actually pull the trigger? I say the chances of that are pretty good. What matters here is that Gates learned the hard way that holding out won’t always get you what you want. Hines Ward learned it too recently, reporting to camp after holding out and looks to be close to having a deal done. The Chargers showed that upholding the integrity of their organization is as important as winning and that there are teams out there that won’t be messed with when it comes to contract holdouts. Hopefully there are other teams watching and there are players who see that perhaps holding out isn’t the way to get what you want.

Jesus, doesn't anyone post on the weekends?

Well, I've realized that if I'm short on money and can't really do much on a weekend, I sure as hell can't rely on the Washington Blog Scene for entertainment. Everyone's too busy to write anything. I suppose it could be pointed out that I can't rarely post on weekends either, but who's splitting hairs here?

This is not to say that my weekend was bad. I was more productive than I have been in recent memory. I don't know about all of you, but a typical weekend for me begins around noon or 1 p.m., and involves a lot of lazing around. Towards the evening, it's time to go out for drinks or live music if I have money, or watch movies and play online poker if I don't. If I go out, online poker becomes my nightcap, starting around 1-2 a.m. and often lasting till dawn. But hey, at least I win consistently.

This weekend however, I was productive. On Saturday, when I had money, I managed to get my shit together and run errands. I was able to knock out an oil change, a haircut, Best Buy, Borders, clothes, glasses repair, and filled out a rebate form for my new phone. And maybe one other thing. This may not seem like a lot to many of you, but for me, this is a substantial amount of achievement, at least on a weekend. Now then, while I was getting clothes, I may have seen the worst fashion statement ever. That's a lot coming from a guy who's idea of wallpaper in college was cut up beer cases. I saw a man with a Happy Valley t-shirt, a Martha's Vineyard hat, hot pink shorts, and a black belt with aqua blue sharks printed on it. He was accompanied by a noticeable pregnant wife who kept holding up baby things. He replied "cute" to everything, and sounded like he wished to die. If I ever become like this, you all have permission to pull the trigger.

After getting all this out of the way, I can honestly say I won't be doing much till next pay period, but at least I picked up a few new movies (Million Dollar Baby, Sin City, Godfather II) and a new book (The combined Iliad and Odyssey) to help keep myself entertained.

Deep Cover got drunk on Friday and punched a fireplace, so he can't do much with his right hand at the moment. We're thinking of scheduling an intervention for him, if anyone out there wants to attend.

It appears our Fantasy Football league is on hiatus right now. Any bloggers out there who are interested, contact Sara from Butterfly Network, or us. We need to get a few more teams before we can hold our draft. I know there are a few of you out there.

Tonight, I-66 and I got back to our middle school-high school days, and ordered WWE Summerslam. I have to admit, it was pretty entertaining, though I don't think I could ever religiously watch this stuff the way I did when I was younger. Hulk Hogan needs to stop wrestling immediately. No one likes to see older people hang around too long, shells of their former selves. Hogan's time passed awhile ago, and he needs to realize it.

Lastly, before we sign off, I whole-heartedly recommend everyone click on The Playaz Ball link and so see what Phil and his cronies have gotten into. The pictures are well worth it.

Friday, August 19, 2005

Atop The Softball World

Last night McLean Little League defeated Orange, CT. 6-2 in the Softball World Series championship game from Portland, Oregon. Jamie Bell went 3 for 4 driving in 2 runs and scoring one herself, leading the way for McLean. Bell played last year for the McLean team that was beaten in the championship game 18-5 by a team from Waco, TX. Bravo, girls.

photo courtesy of

Thursday, August 18, 2005

Whatever happened to real men?

I have just one question. At what point did it become acceptable for us to idolize wimps and sissies in this great nation? Seriously, have you seen some of the role models we have out there today? Well, this man is sick of it. It's time we remembered what a real man is supposed to be, and called out the sissies of today to shape it up.

John "The Duke" Wayne

Did it get any manlier than John Wayne? Seriously, anyone who says things like "Out here a man settles his own problems" and "Here, due process is a bullet" has got to be one tough son of a bitch. I have it on good authority that John Wayne ate rocks and shit gunpowder. Now, I could have done without his quote about Indians...yeah, that was pretty bad...but still. Look at that face, does that look like the sort of guy you want to screw with. Absolutely not. Sorry to have gotten in your way, Mr. Wayne.

Charles Bronson

Here's another guy that embodied tough. Charles Bronson, former coal miner and WWII veteran. Perhaps his crowning moment was in arguably the best Western film of all time, The Magnificent Seven. Charles Bronson, dirty, tired and pissed off after fighting banditos all day, just wants a drink and some peace and quiet. The local kids decide to bother him, mistake number one. Mistake number two occured when one of the kids had the gall to call his father a coward. A father that had been fighting alongside Bronson all day. Well, Charles Bronson grabbed the kid over his knee and beat his ass, on camera no less. Did he worry about the A.C.L.U., or bitching parents? Hell no, he did what a man should do, he got the job done.

Gregory Peck

Peck makes the list for two reasons. The first is being the chairman of the American Cancer Society even though he never had cancer. The second is for looking like he'd stomp you and introduce you to the back of his hand if you even considered looking at him wrong. *Maddox also likes Gregory Peck.

Robert Mitchum

The kind of man you read about in Greek mythology, if he was Greek. What a stare! Plus, he even wrote and sang a song about running moonshine.

Steve McQueen

Can you really keep a man who jumped a barb wire fence while on a motorcycle off this list? Screw you Nazi's, you aren't taking Steve down that easily! Man, The Great Escape rules. As a nice side bonus, Steve's offspring helped beat up Ralph Macchio in the Karate Kid films, which we can all appreciate.

So there you have it, a time when men were men. Today, we're populated by these sorts of pansy asses.

Orlando Bloom

You've got to be kidding me. In his best role, he was saying things like "A red sun rises, blood has been spilled last night." Whatever dipshit. Plus which, he completely wimps out in Troy, going so far as to crawl away from a fight and cling to his older brother's leg to avoid getting killed. You may as well have let the bad guy kill you, you big pussy, because you're living the rest of your life as a WUSS!

Ben Affleck

Let's get this straight. No man should ever be a spokesman for a major cosmetics company. Ben Affleck, turn your balls in. Even the fact that he's a poker player now won't save him in my eyes. At least Matt Damon turned out alright, 50% isn't too bad.

Hugh Grant

Does anyone else want to punch this guy on sight? Well, if not, I guess it only takes one. Bide your time Captain, bide your time...

Adam Sandler

Nevermind, Hugh gets a pass for now. I only want to punch him. Adam Sandler I want to maim with a fork. I hate Adam Sandler so much. I can't even figure out which reason pisses me off most. Is it because he sounds obnoxious, because he's not funny, or because he remade a great movie that starred a real man, Burt Reynolds. Adam Sandler can choke and die, I won't miss his crap.

It's sad but true, we're watching a generation of sissies. Jerry Seinfeld, Ray Romano, Elijah Wood...the list is never-ending. This is why a movie like Sin City was so good recently, because it let men be men. Mickey Rourke and Bruce Willis took shit from no one. Hell, Bruce Willis even fed the aforementioned Elijah Wood to a dog. That is indescribeably cool.

But there is hope, dear readers, for there are still men within our midst. Men who can make it through the day without a man purse, or bitching like a douchebag. Here, I present two of our saviors, Russell Crowe and Brad Pitt.

I have every confidence, with their Gladiators and Fight Clubs, their Snatches (shut up) and their Cinderella Men, that these men will continue to shine the way, and lead us to a new generation of masculinity. I pray for their success.

*Honorable Mention Tough Guys
Mel Gibson, Clint Eastwood, James Coburn, Sirs Sean Connery and Anthony Hopkins, Denzel Washington, Robert DeNiro, Al Pacino, Sean Penn, Sly Stallone, Vince Vaughn (only as Double Down Trent), Bruce Willis, Morgan Freeman, Burt Reynolds, Daniel Day-Lewis, Gene Hackman, Jack Nicholson

*Honorable Mention Sissy-Mary's
Elijah Wood, Jude Law, Colin Farrell, Tom Cruise, Tobey MaGuire, Johnny Depp, Jamie Foxx, Anthony Michael-Hall, Judd Nelson, Emilio Estevez, Jon Favreau, Robin Williams, William H. Macy

*On the Fence
Edward Norton, John Malkovich, Jeff Bridges, Mark Wahlberg, John Cusack, Val Kilmer, Kevin Spacey, Jim Caviezal, Steve Buscemi

Note: These lists are imcomplete, but where people are placed is indisputable and inarguable. All arguments to the contrary will be ignored. If you have a name that does not appear, you may ask. Do not make an argument for where they will be placed, it has already been determined. Just ask, and I will answer. For example:

Poster: Where is Mark Wahlberg (Let's assume he's not there)

The Captain: Mark Wahlberg is on the fence, because for the most part, he's sucked. Fear sucked, The Italian Job was alright, but more because of other characters. Wahlberg gets upgraded to the fence for a great job in Boogie Nights, and for classic lines like "13 inches is a tough load if I'm not gentle."

That's how the game is played folks, ask away.

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

The Captain's usual disjointed thoughts

First off, let's welcome four, count em, four new blog links to the pages of D.C. Sports. The Playaz Ball, D.C. Bachelor and The D.C. Sports Chick all lose the coveted "New Blog" link for the four newest flavors gracing our pages. First, we welcome Travis of "Throwing Hammers" and the D.C. Pussycat Doll, fellow bloggers we met at the last Happy Hour. Secondly, we welcome two blogs whose members have made their presence known in our comments section, the D.C. Drama Grrls (don't get me started on the multiple R's) and Painting D.C. Pink, one of whose members has something going with I-66 that I'm not aware of.

Remember, blogs have a good shot of getting on here if you recommend them and we get a chance to check them out.

McLean Little League Softball goes for it all tomorrow night.

I-66, Deep Cover and myself have received invitations to the 50th anniversary gala for our high school. 50 years old. The 40th one went on while we were in school, this seems like it might be interesting. God knows we've seen basically zero people from our graduating class since...well, graduation. And of course, it's always good to go back and find out which asshole jock (we were jocks, but not assholes) is unemployed and which snotty hot cheerleader got fat and knocked up in college. Not bitter, just amused at the prospect.

Our cable modem is going in and out, and it's pissing me off. It went out while I was playing a poker tournament tonight, and I was one of the last two players. Definitely finished in second, cost me four bills.

Man, I've been through hell the past three weeks. First my knee, which I shared with you all...I share because I love. Then a bout with food poisoning this past weekend, I lost ten pounds in two days and drank nothing but Gatorade. No food. No worries though, I gained it all back on a diet of Pho (Vietnamese Soup) sushi and Subway. Of course, during the sushi dinner last night, I found out some disturbing news. My father had gone into the hospital with chest pain while I was in college, he had angina. Of course, he downplayed it, and he did come through fine. He's been in four times total, either for check-ups or a stent replacement. Of course, what he didn't tell me was he had the chest pain for two weeks before he went in, and that when he finally did, one of his arteries was 97% blocked and he would have died soon. His fiance (a retired nurse) finally made him own up to it. If anyone wondered why I tried to patch up the trench in my knee with peroxide and band-aids, I got it from him. Jerk.

If I see another person using one of those luggage carriers on wheels to carry a single backpack, and their just doing it moving around the office, I think I'm going to stab them with my mouse.

I'm about a week away from returning to game action, I-66 is healing fast and only has about three weeks to go. He's also traded in his crutches for a sexy walking boot.

Is it bad to tell a female co-worker (with an attitude) that if we had office karaoke, I could definitely see her singing "These boots were made for walking?" Is that really so bad? On a completely unrelated item, I can't open my left eye.

So lastly, allow me to tell you what kind of friends I have. Many of you know I've been seeing the same girl for two and a half years. We met towards the tail end of my college career, I really thought it had no future since she was a few years behind. Lo and behold, the distance thing has worked. She graduates in December (technically May, but done with classes December) and she's made no secret of her future desires. So exactly how do I defend myself when my friends make "When's the engagement happening" and wedding jokes? I'm probably looking for guy advice here, I get the feeling they'll understand more than women in this situation. And before you ladies get on my case about this, the answers are, in no particualr order, yes I love her, yes I want the same thing, though on a slightly slower timetable, and yes, I'm sure. The answer is probably yes to variations of those questions as well, except for "Do I have the money."


[clap-clap, clap-clap-clap-clap] DC UNITED!

DC United playing FC Dallas in the US Open Cup at Maryland Soccerplex? August 24th? 7:30pm? Twist my arm.

I am so there.

PS - best recent search leading here: "Danny Wuerffel groomsmen"
image courtesy of

Support your hometown girls!

So The Captain just pointed out that McLean, VA was representing the "south" at the Little League Softball World Series (nevermind that I have a problem being considered a "southern" resident just because I reside in VA. That's neither here nor there). We're at the semifinal point and tonight the girls are facing off against a team from Louisiana that's somehow representing the "southwest". The Captain, Deep Cover, and myself all attended McLean High School and tend to call McLean home. McLean Little League, you have our support.


Excellent post I-66! For those wondering, the McLean girls won tonight. Not only that, tonight was the semi-finals of the World Series. The local girls will be playing for the Little League World Championship (yes world, there were foreign teams in this) either today or tomorrow, against Orange, Connecticut. Why am I so happy about this. Well, I'm sure the three of us are all rooting for these girls, but unlike Deep Cover or I-66, I was actually a baseball player growing up, for 18 years of my life. Not only that, I played at McLean little league growing up, and umpired both baseball and softball in the years following. I am extremely happy for these girls, and I will be watching anxiously when they go for it all. Go McLean!!

Monday, August 15, 2005

NFL Observations

Well the first true weekend of NFL preseason football is in the books... a few things of note:

- Terrell Owens. That there is the last time I will write his name on this blog until either the situation is resolved (ie: he is traded or gets cut) or the regular season begins. I'm tired of hearing about it. Although I must admit, Donovan McNabb is becoming increasingly enjoyable on the mic.

- Mark Brunell must've got smacked with a 2x4 or something because he remembers how to throw with zip.

- Michael Vick is nothing more than a running back under center.

- Peyton Manning is still the best QB in all the league.

- Time for Chicago to draft a real quarterback next year.

- Yes, I am aware that they have Rex Grossman.

- Dallas sucks.

Sunday, August 14, 2005

Oh sweet Jesus

The Redskins first preseason game is starting in five minutes. I'm so excited I may wet my pants. Baseball will always be the sport nearest and dearest to my heart, but man, the beginning of football season is a great time.

Friday, August 12, 2005

Happy Hour Recap

Last night The Captain and I went to the Happy Hour at Mr. Smith’s in Georgetown. The parking spot we obtained must have been an omen for how the evening would go – we were less than 50 yards from the bar. On crutches this is a good thing. We got there and wandered inside after an unaware Eastern European guy nearly took me out by stepping backwards into my path. I should have given him a yellow card. Why were you standing in the doorway without going inside to begin with? Anyways… we get in and walk slowly through, in search of people we’d recognize from pictures. We were recognized first (crutches, dead giveaway) and Happy Hour had officially begun.

Kathryn graciously fulfilled her role as Social Chair. Now, while I’m not precisely sure what is in the job description, I’m pretty sure handshake introductions and point-out introductions are included therein. Something I learned very quickly: I prefer “Hi I’m (my name here), better known as I-66, nice to meet you” (or variants) over “Hi, I’m I-66…”

Memorable Moments:

- The Captain buying a shot of Jager and offering it to DC Cookie while asking, “So, what do you do?” Absolutely classic. Made even better by the fact that these were the first words he spoke to her. High marks for that one.
- Yours truly belting out Hotel California while some Louis Armstrong sound-alike was wailing on the piano.
- The Captain lamenting said sound-alike playing The Beatles music.
- Texas Cutie making a reflex kick-save when one of my crutches fell while I was trying to take a picture – never touched the ground.

Abbreviated list of attendees and what I probably would’ve written in a notebook about them… yanno, if I had a notebook and legible handwriting:

- Kathryn: Wondrous host and gracious recipient of the drink I owed. Enjoyably bubbly. Taller than I imagined. Or maybe I was just shorter than usual? Called me a tadpole. This is acceptable.
- DC Cookie: Certainly did not come across as shy. Easily conversational. I think I made it to the “it’s ok to talk about what we do now” threshold. Might not trust me around an open beverage again.
- Texas Cutie: Crutch saver extraordinaire. Perky and pleasant. Seems to like to dance. Seems to dislike me saying, “you know what they say about peeling the label off of your bottle.”
- The Milkman: Well spoken. Extremely tall. I need to go to the chiropractor. Book/movie/album question made me realize I don’t read enough.
- Travis: I will stay away from Daunte Culpepper. Not a big Mewelde Moore fan. Witty. Must find “Hammerman” merchandise.
- DC Sports Chick: Makes good on exchange. Big fan of floppy Nationals hats. Knows her stuff. Thinks we know ours
- Miss M: Nice but not big into the talking. Maybe we talked too much?
- Webcowgirl: Engaging. Seems relaxed post-vacation. I meant to ask about her dogs. Thinks I’m funny. I think that’s awesome.
- VP of Dior: Didn't stay long. Charming. Could pass as my sister? My birthday’s in November. Just saying.

Apologies to those with whom I only spoke briefly (RCR, V, DCB, Linz, anyone else I can't recall right now.) It’s not you, it’s me. I did enjoy making everyone’s acquaintance.

Texas Cutie, Kathryn, LMR, DC Cookie, Webcowgirl

Texas Cutie, The Captain, I-66, The Milkman

DC Cookie gains control of my camera

DC Cookie and I-66

The Captain and Travis are badasses.. actually, this looks kinda like a good/evil thing with the lighting

Good times, good times. Thanks to Kathryn for being the initiator, we’re glad we made it out. Those who want the (few) pictures I have may e-mail me/us. Looking forward to the next.

***The Captain's Take***

I figured I'd just add on here rather than do a completely new post. I will admit to some trepidation going to this Happy Hour. Aside from losing what little anonimity I had left, I was a little worried about opening every conversation with "So, I write for this blog, which blog is yours?..etc." Also, I was kinda wondering whether we were going to use real names or if I was just going to be "Captain" to everyone.

Regardless, this was very fun and very worth it. Kathryn was a wonderful host. I'm not going to rehash the whole night, I-66 did a fine job of that. Before I get into my own personal boos/cheers, I have to say this. Do Washington bloggers take some kind of growth hormone? Jesus, I've always been the tallest of my group of friends. Holy hell. The Milkman had a good 4-5 inches on me, Travis was looking down, and I was seeing eye to eye with Cookie. Tell me you were wearing heels, Cookie. I think it's time for me to bust out the Bobby Brady "hang from the monkey bars" technique.

DCCookie for being so gracious about my practical joke. I mean, when you complain about being asked what you do, and complain about Jager, you're practically leaving the door open here. Extra cheers for downing the shot.

Kathryn for the hosting, what more can be said. Gracious and charming.

Milkman was a wonderful conversationalist, I had a great discussion with him and Travis about books, movies and music. Also, I noticed that many people were willing to get into sports discussions.

Finally, our female equal, DC Sports Chick, it was fantastic to meet you. Thanks for the free beer, barter is a great basis for an economy. You are wonderfully knowledgeable about sports, both you and Miss M were very pleasant to be around. Wish you hadn't left so soon, especially before the pictures started. The obese Olympics idea is going to become a future post.

I wish I had more time to converse with DC Bachelor, webcowgirl, Texas Cutie, V, Vp of Dior, RCR and all the rest. I'll make a better effort next time, I swear.

Jager is $6.50 a shot? Holy shit. Besides the taste, I knew there was a reason I didn't like it.

The music. Sorry, I wasn't digging the guy. And covering the Beatles badly is a good way to drive me to a murder spree.

Taco Bell: We went there afterwards. How is a place out of Lemonade, Fruit Punch and Brisk all at the same time? I don't drink soda, assholes.

Overall, it wasn't a half bad night, modestly speaking. I don't know what happened with the pictures, they look a little grainy, and I didn't think I was THAT much shorter than Travis. I'll definitely be out again, it was great to meet you all.

Sports News/Views

Yes, I did attend the Happy Hour yesterday. Yes, I will write about it later. But first...

NEWS: Former Heisman Trophy winner Jason White ended his professional career Thursday, citing his weak knees.

VIEW: Evidently this report failed to notice his weak arm. Is it really a professional career if you never play? Give me a break. I saw this on the ESPN Bottom Line -- slow news day much?

NEWS: Terrell Owens -- I know, we've heard enough already, but I like this one. From the Washington Post: "I came in to rehab and we got into a discussion about me signing autographs," said Owens, who had skipped two autograph sessions for fans this week. "In the midst of that, he just told me to shut up. I just told him, 'I'm a grown man,' and I told him the same. I told him to shut up."

VIEW: Now, call me crazy, but am I the only one who finds the "I just told him, 'I'm a grown man,' and I told him the same. I told him to shut up." part a liiiiiittle funny? Can't you just see Owens saying how grown he is and then saying "no, YOU shut up!" and then rolling on the ground crying and kicking his feet in the air because Coach Andy Reid wouldn't buy him ice cream? Waaaaaaah!!! I'm a grown man! Waaaaaaah!!! If you don't give me more money I'm gonna sit out and pout like a little baby!

NEWS: Rafael Palmeiro returns... and sits on the bench.

VIEW: Good! Now, when is Raffy gonna come out and say "The truth is, the steroids are in the Viagra"?

NEWS: Recent search that led to this blog: "yankee haters"

VIEW: Guilty as charged.

Thursday, August 11, 2005

Get Happy Thursday

Blogger Happy Hour tonight, baby.

Are YOU going?


Jerry West, eat your heart out

Our summer session is coming to an end. There are 2 games left and then the “fall” (though starting in August) session begins shortly after. And I have a problem. Finding talented women soccer players in Northern Virginia is sandpaper-instead-of-toilet-paper rough. I don’t know what it is, but seemingly every team in our league and others is looking for female players. Male players are a dime a dozen. I told Deep Cover last night that if I needed to register a full male team and put them on the field by Sunday I could do it. I think I could with a day to spare. So now I’m on this journey trying to replace no less than 5 pretty good female players who are leaving for various reasons, including but not limited to job and school.

I’ve only been co-steering (as in, co-captain) this ship for a season and a half. Our first year we were a coed team comprised almost entirely of randoms who didn’t know one-another thrown together on a soccer field. One might draw the conclusion that we wouldn’t do very well. One would be right: we won 3 of 24 games and tied 3 others. Oh, and one of those wins was a forfeit. The 2nd season brought 7 wins. Last year was our 3rd season and, due to various departures and also my willingness to get involved, I became a co-captain and did most of the recruiting. Roughly 50% of our roster was new and we started out with a string of victories back-to-back (6 or 7 games) and ended up winning more than half of our games. We returned mostly the same roster for this session (we’re playing 2 shorter sessions instead of 1 long season in this new league) and have enjoyed decent success. With the end of the session I’m back to needing new female players.

Recruiting is not an exact science. There are places online where you can go to find players, such as where you can post an ad as a team looking for players or post an ad as a player looking for a team. It’s not limited to soccer but soccer is mostly what you’ll find. Think of it as for athletes. Without the pictures. Or the dating. Ok, maybe that was a bad comparison. I have other mechanisms that I use but I won’t reveal them – trade secrets, you know. This one’s going to be difficult because there is little time between now and the start of the “fall”. Here’s hoping I can work my magic and put a quality side on the field when we get back up and running.

In the meantime… if any of you bloggers/readers are/happen to know a female soccer player with measurable experience, feel free to contact me/us. There’s an e-mail link on my profile thingy. Hey, I’ll take what help I can get.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005


Madden update, not that you care.

Should have had my copy of Madden in the PS2 last night. FedEx decided to deliver at 11:30 in the morning and I wasn't there. Who knew?! People work?! Holy hell on a hotplate! So when nobody answered (though my dog presumably barked menacingly, as always) the FedEx f'ker took the package to the leasing office. When I got home there was a notice on my door saying the package was there so I went over. I got to the front door and there's a letter saying the office will be closed the rest of the day for the "company picnic." So here I am, 24 hours later, with the game at the leasing office. I'll be going after work to get it but, seriously, FedEx freak, just slide it in the mail slot thingy like most regular people. Signature optional. Thanks. Asscorn.

Where The Women Play

When the WUSA closed its doors a couple of years ago, its players were looking for places to play. Many players sought opportunities overseas, including a quartet of national teamers – Hope Solo, Christie Welsh, Lorrie Fair, and my girl Aly Wagner – that went to play for Lyon in France. Unbeknownst to a lot of the public, there is a women’s league here in the United States that now serves as the playing ground for many former WUSA’ers. That league is the W-League.

The W-League is not about money. Salary information is not available – evidently because there isn’t a salary to speak of. I looked high and low and it seems the players receive only a stipend for room, food, gas, etc. and make money participating in soccer camps and other activities that most often include youth education. There are teams all over the country as well as a few in Canada, and recently the New Jersey Wildcats faced off against the Ottawa Fury for the W-League Championship. The Wildcats came out victorious 3-0 and lifted the trophy, avenging their only loss over the last 2 seasons. Taking the field that day for the Wildcats were US national teamers Cat Reddick (UNC alumna), Heather O’Reilly (currently at UNC), the aforementioned Welsh (back from Lyon), and Canadian national teamer, goalkeeper Karina LeBlanc.

The home team for the area are the Northern Virginia Majestics. The Majestics play their games at a high school in Woodbridge in front of small family oriented crowds. I was only able to attend one game this season, a 2-1 loss to the Central Florida Krush, a team consisting of many former University of Florida players, including national teamers Danielle Fotopolous and Heather Mitts. There probably aren’t any players on the Majestics roster that you’d recognize. Many of the players are from the area and played club soccer here.

The WUSA may not currently be operational, but the W-League, having attracted many high-quality players who once played in the WUSA, has risen in stature and is among the best women’s soccer leagues in the world. It may not be for money, but it’s good to know that our soccer-playing women still have a place to ply their trade.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

The Captain's Greatest Movies Installment #2

Following the tradition of the Goonies post, here is the second edition of the greatest movies of my life/childhood. Movies from before I was born also qualify based strictly on my discretion as to their awesomeness. So without any further ado, my tribute to...the Rocky Series.

As a quick background, Rocky is just about the greatest underdog story of all time. Even people who dislike boxing usually appreciate at least the first few films for their drama. Songs from these soundtracks are also my music of choice whenever I'm lifting. I don't care how cliche it is, I've never failed that last bench press or bicep curl when "Burning Heart" was playing. Speaking of "Burning Heart" was there ever a band in history whose entire career was owed to one film series, the way "Survivor" owed Rocky? Seriously...any band?

The series comprised of five movies, with rumors of a sixth that have been around for years. Like most fans of the series, I often pretend the fifth movie never actually existed, but for purposes of this tribute (and factual accuracy) we'll let it go here. And so we begin with Rocky...

Sylvester Stallone in Rocky.

The original Rocky was made in 1976. Sly Stallone, inspired by a fight between Muhammed Ali and Chuck "The Bayonne Bleeder" Wepner, wrote the script in three days. THREE DAYS!! This for a movie that currently ranks as one of the AFI Top 100 movies of all time. Originally, the studios wanted to cast Ryan O'Neal, but Stallone refused to sell his script unless he was Rocky. Smart move. Nominated for every major Oscar except Supporting Actress, it took home Best Picture and Best Director from the 1977 Oscars. And it led to Rocky II.

Rocky, finally victorious.

Ah Rocky II, the inevitable rematch after the ending in Rocky. The sequel actually did a pretty decent job of holding up to the original's perfection. Wasn't quite as good, and it had that entire EXCRUCIATING 20 minute scene where Rocky's wife Adrien was selfish enough to lapse into a coma after childbirth. And this while he was supposed to be training. Yes, selfish. Adrien Balboa is a charter member of the "wet blanket girlfriend/wife" Hall of Fame. Her favorite line of each movie: "You can't win Rocky!" There needs to be an entire post dedicated to All Time Wet Blanket girlfriends. I'm furious right now just thinking about this post. Be on the lookout for it.

The moment Adrien Balboa, with a PhD in being a wet-blanket bitch, ruins Rocky's life forever.

So anyway, Rocky becomes champion, manages to survive his marriage without finding himself at the end of a noose, and then kills the series. Rocky III was, to put it midly, a bit of a letdown. At least there was a cameo where Rocky fight Hulk Hogan, playing a character named "Thunderlips, The Ultimate Male, The Mountain of Molten Lust." I'm not making that up. Additionally, he loses the title and wins it back in a 1-1/2 hour span, and his manager, Mickey, dies. Very sad, Mickey Goldmill was a great character, played to perfection by the late Burgess Meredith. You ever wonder where the phrase "Women weaken legs!!" came from? It came from this man:

Stallone wasn't done yet. Next came the appropriately titled Rocky IV. In my humble opinion, the series picked back up with this film. Why? Because the villian was badass, the series dropped all pretense of drama and went straight to action, and it featured some of the best lines of the series by Paulie, the drunk uncle. Paulie should be mentioned along with Fredo Corleone and Hamish (from Braveheart) as one of the best supporting characters, ever. Among his gems..."Hey remember how I told you if I could be anyone, I'd pick you...forget it."

Hold me back Paulie...Hold me BACK!!

And then there was Rocky V. It pains me still to write that sentence. Um, stuff happened, Rocky's kid got the shit kicked out of him, then gave it all back. A real boxer with zero charisma/screen presence played the villian, whose name was Tommy Gunn. One other thing. This was the only movie in which Stallone didn't take his shirt off at any point. Here's my theory. There were only three years between each of the first four films, but five years between number IV and V. Stallone had to be convinced to make number V, and he had let himself go. You've seen pictures of Stallone in Rocky and Rocky II above. Well here's III, IV and V. I still think steroids may have played a part here, but I have no proof.

Stallone in Rocky III.

Stallone, looking jacked up in Rocky IV. The picture of him with Paulie confirms this.

The most menacing picture I could find from Rocky V.

Lastly, I have to touch on the villians from the Rocky series, the opponents Rocky fought tooth and nail for glory. I have ranked them from worst to best. Here they are:

Tommy Morrison as Tommy Gunn.

Tommy Gunn sucked. The villian of Rocky V, he brought nothing to the table, and lost to a long retired Rocky in a street fight. How was this guy supposed to be the ultimate fight? I'm still only partially convinced this movie really exists.

Mr. T as Clubber Lang

Mr. T is pretty mean looking, but he loses points for the following: Beating Rocky two minutes after Mickey had died. Like Rocky was supposed to fight after losing his father figure. Additionally, when Rocky had "eye of the tiger" back, thanks to Apollo Creed, he dispatched Lang in three rounds. Sissy. Speaking of Apollo Creed...

Carl Weathers as Apollo Creed, fighting Stallone.

Apollo Creed was a smooth talking, quick punching machine. He was the man. He fought Rocky in two 15-round wars in both Rocky and Rocky II, winning the first time and losing by one second in Rocky II. Creed was modeled after the great Muhammed Ali, and Carl Weathers was perfect for the role. He even made a great turn as a friend in Rocky III, and shockingly died in Rocky IV. He never was as good after this series, hitting rock bottom when he appeared in Happy Gilmore. I hate Adam Sandler. Apollo Creed would have been the number one villian of all time if it weren't for...

Dolph Lundgren as Ivan Drago

Ivan Drago, the Russian monster. Do I care that he was using steroids? Not really. Ivan Drago gets to be number one for a couple of reason. One, he had a punch that measured at a PSI (pressure per square inch) of 1500. Normal heavyweight PSI is around 800. In other words, he had the ability to shatter bones. Secondly, he killed Apollo Creed. I think that about seals the deal. He took punishing shots from Rocky and it took forever for him to show damage. He may have lost, but this movie would have you believe he helped end the Cold War. And if you watch the beginning of Rocky V, he knocked Rocky stupid. Hand-shaking stupid. Drago had six lines the entire film.
"I must break you"
"You will lose"
"He is like a piece of iron"
"If he dies...he dies"
"I fight for me...FOR ME!!"
"You're dead"

Never before has someone done so much with so little.

Thus concludes my tribute to Rocky. If I ruined any of the films for you, it's really your fault for having never seen them. Go watch them anyway. If you're looking for that little motivation to get started dieting/lifting/running, watch the movies. It's impossible not to be inspired.


Men, prepare to pump your fists.

Ladies, prepare to roll your eyes.

Today is the day. Madden 2006 will be in my hot little hands this afternoon.

Every year it seems to me that the game has gotten better. I’m a bit apprehensive about the ease with which the new vision cone (or whatever its called) will be operated. I’ve been wondering when the good good good people at EA Sports were going to come up with a way to make the vision of a quarterback actually have a bearing on his play. To those not familiar with the feature, when your QB drops back to pass he actually has a field of vision (a cone, starting small at his helmet and widening as it goes further from him, as if it were a flashlight. And the cone is pretty true-to-life as Michael Vick's is pretty small, not much unlike his true quarterbacking ability.) in which a receiver must be in order to throw a pass to. Well, ok, not “must”, but you lose accuracy when he’s not in the cone, as if throwing to a target you can’t see. There are other features that have been added but you’ll have to research those yourself, since I don’t want to feel like a commercial.

EA Sports. It’s in the game! (whoops, sorry, there I go again)

Since last year EA Sports has managed to acquire exclusive licensing rights to the NFL, which means that they have carte blanche to use player names and likenesses in their video game.

ESPN NFL 2Kx series? Peace.
Gameday? Adios.
NFL Blitz? Ciao. (Though I actually do enjoy those games… and the makers are releasing “Blitz: The League”, a game much like the Playmakers series on ESPN was. No real players, though)

It’s good to see that the Madden makers are not resting just because of their exclusivity. Hopefully this trend will continue. With no other game makers permitted to use names and likenesses of players, any games they attempt to make will have little to no support (and Gameday sucked anyways).

I don't know many women who play video games, and none who play sports games - especially Madden. But if I meet the woman who can give me a game, I might actually propose on the spot.


So I’ll be sitting in front of my PS2 playing Madden for a while with my leg elevated – doctor’s orders, yanno. But don’t worry. I don’t play online (else I’d have no social life to speak of) and I will still be showing up here, shattering my anonymity – or, what little I have left.

Sports Related Link Of The Day

"Dude, my doctor told me I contracted hepatitis"

"That sucks, man. I told you not to mess with that cheerleader..."

"Um.. funny thing about that.."

Monday, August 08, 2005

Nep-Tuning Out

…And I’m spent.

This past weekend was spent in Virginia Beach at the Neptune Soccer Classic. Having injured myself on Tuesday, I was unable to play but decided to go anyways. It was hard to only sit and watch, all the while feeling like I should be out there making a difference in the game, but the team played well and looked like advancing to the knockout stage after day 1.

Game 1 saw us with a 2-1 lead late in the game. Before explaining how this unfolded, I must shed a little light, for the uninformed, on the “advantage” rule. Advantage comes into play when a player with the ball is fouled. If his/her team loses control of the ball or would not benefit from play continuing, the referee blows the whistle and calls the foul. If the player’s team maintains control of the ball and also would benefit from play continuing, normally seen as continuing to move forward in attack or being able to get a shot off on goal, the referee plays advantage, and let’s play resume as if the foul never occurred. The ref sees a foul in the box as one of their players goes down. The ref plays advantage as the ball rolls to another attacker who shoots at goal and misses. The ref blows the whistle and calls a penalty kick. So… he lets the advantage materialize and THEN calls the foul when they miss their shot? Ridiculous. We go ballistic. Well, a few people do, including one of ours who was shown a yellow card for yelling at the referee and then must’ve said the magic word because the referee showed him his 2nd yellow which meant a red card and an ejection. They converted the penalty to make it 2-2 and we had to hold on with one less player for the remainder of the game. Draw. 2-2. The ref later admits to having blown it. Yeah, thanks. A lot of good that does us, asscorn.

Game 2 started with few clouds in the sky at 1pm with 90+ degree temps. Yeah. Hot. We won 2-1 on a late goal that I believe struck the underside of the crossbar and bounced down and in the net. I might be mistaken since I had sweat in my eye. We left the fields feeling good about 4 points (3 for a win, 1 for a draw) from 2 games and, after hearing how the other teams in our group had done, we knew we needed a win against our opponents on Sunday in order to advance.

Game 3. 8:30am. After a night of partying this one was not fun. Close game. A bouncing ball found the head of the opposition and then the back of the net. 1-0. We, on the other hand, were not as lucky and thus bowed out of the tournament with 4 points on a 1-1-1 record.

All in all it was a good weekend but I missed playing. I need to recover swiftly.

Great weekend

Another weekend come and gone, five days of work to look forward to.

Friday night was fantastic, even though the original plan (Uptown, Spices, after dinner drinks) got thrown out the window. Since my girlfriend had to catch her train out of Pittsburgh at 4:30 a.m., she was understandably lacking energy, even with a three hour afternoon nap. Also, we found out the Uptown was showing a penguin documentary a few days ago, so that was nixed.

Instead, we went straight to Spices, recommended by The Chef and MPL of CPMC. (Was that enough acronymns for you?) Anyway, it was fantastic. Since most of my time in Cleveland Park is spent in Nanny O'Briens or the Four P's, their advice was invaluable. We both had a wonderful dinner, and saw a number of other restaurants we'll eventually try. Thanks again. Our night ended after that however, as I practically had to carry my girlfriend back to the Metro. No Nanny's, no four P's, no Aroma, no drinks.

Saturday was the fourth wedding I've been to this summer. It was enjoyable, but it was outdoors, and Saturday was a bitch. A few beers helped cool me off (open bar? CHECK!) but we were made to stand during the ceremony, the lady doing the service was terrible, and after a few hours, we were drained. We got out of there before the bouquet toss. Let me tell you, the highlight was the hors d'oeuvres. Potatos with pesto sour cream and spanakopita pastries. We stayed in and watched Troy saturday night, which isn't a bad film. It tries to be an epic, but I'm pretty much going to compare any epic I watch to Braveheart, and it wasn't even close. Plus which, it was hard to really root for Achilles (Brad Pitt) since his character was entirely driven by ego. Plus, he killed the only really likeable main character in the movie, Hector. (Eric Bana) And Orlando Bloom's character was such a sissy. On the plus side, the movie had Peter O'Toole, and anyone who's seen Lawrence of Arabia can appreciate him.

Sunday was a lazy day until it was time to take her back to Union Station, which is when the shit hit the fan. We were coming in on the Orange Line, and were made to leave the train due to an "emergency spanning the next three stops." There was supposed to be shuttle service outside. At this point, her train leaves in about an hour, maybe a little less. We go upstairs, walk through the lines, and are about to hit the escalator out of the station, when another announcement comes over the intercom. Service is restored, everyone can return to the train. We all looked at each other, and then it was a jailbreak back to the train. I feel bad for those who were out of the station and didn't hear.

We got to Union Station with enough time for a quick kiss goodbye so she could run to make her train. Her train of course, was on time, like NO OTHER TRAIN IN HISTORY EVER IS, BUT THIS ONE WAS! Not a satisfying goodbye since I won't be seeing her till Labor Day.

I had planned to eat dinner with my father and some other people in Georgetown. Being that they were at the Nationals Game (we lost again) they decided to swing by and pick me up, which gave me some time to kill. I figured I'd look for something new to read at the B. Dalton, which was a depressing experience. I enjoy reading as a hobby, though I don't have as much time for it as I'd like. So far, I've only read two books, the new Harry Potter and Moneyball, and parts of the Bible, which is something I've been exploring recently.

I was looking for something inexpensive but worth my time. I thought briefly about the Davinci Code, since I've heard so much about it, but I didn't have enough cash on me. It occurred to me that this is a sad time for literature. All around me, there was crap like The Washingtonienne, or books on Reagan's life, or a biography of Ric Flair, which I briefly considered since I grew up watching him as a kid. I also briefly considered a book on the bloodlines of Jesus, and whether they exist today, but after browsing a few pages, I knew I wouldn't be able to get into it. Like I said before, depressing. Hopefully there's a new great story on the horizon, hopefully it'll be written by me. I'll take book recommemndations from the gallery. Just no beach reading crap, and nothing formulaic. Time it was written doesn't matter, I'll consider older things as well. I'd prefer it to be in Modern English, I still have nightmares of struggling through Canterbury Tales in high school.

I have been a writer on and off since I was a kid, and let me tell you, I'd kill to be in John Grisham's place. Take a protagonist, put him in a legal situation, add an antagonist (or evil unseen coverup) and add in some legal filler. Instant #1 bestseller based on his name, sit back and collect the paychecks. You've read one Grisham, you've read them all.

Alright, off the soapbox. I got picked up, and we had time to kill, so we took my Dad's fiance's father (a WW2 vet) to the WW2 memorial, none of us had been yet. It was moving, but I was infuriated by George W. Bush having his name engraved on the wall. I don't care if he served in the Air National Guard or not, the man shouldn't be associated with the heroes of WW2 in any way, shape or form.

The restaurant was great, I recommend it. It was called "The Old Europe" and it's on Wisconsin Ave. in Georgetown. German restaurant, very filling. I had a meat platter featuring five different meats (not sure what they all were) along with potatos and mushrooms. My appetizer was a Ghoulash soup which was too salty. Apple Strudel for dessert, and a few house beers (Koelsch, I believe) finished off the night.

Got to get ready for five more days of work, so I'm hitting the sack. Hope everyone had as good a weekend as I did, and is ready to face the week.

Friday, August 05, 2005


it gets you every time...

I don't wish harm to anyone, (though if part of you didn't cheer at this, you're obviously no Redskins fan) but this is certainly apropos.

and while we're at it, I-66 points time:

1 point for the name (first/last) of the player getting destroyed by LaVar
1 point for what medical ailment resulted in his being planted into the ground
2 points for what said medical ailment forced him to do

4 points total, have at it.

On the Shelf

*Note "Pictures currently removed due to server issues"

Before we get to the main topic of this post, let's throw a few more links up. Kathryn and the Two Girls in DC have turned over the coveted "new blog" designation to three new links.

First, we must highlight a true new kid on the block, the DC Sports Chick. Hopefully, she will uphold the high standard we've brought to sports blogging, which of course means that only half the postings need to be about sports. An enthusiatic welcome.

Secondly, we call attention to Phil, who runs the Playaz Ball. Phil is friggin hilarious, plus he's given us the word "asscorn," for which he will be remembered forever. His link is under the "Out of Towners" section, as I believe he is based in the South somewhere.

Since we have added what we see as a potential Costello to our Abbott, a Sonny to our Michael, a Fonz to our Richie Cunningham in the Sports Chick, we shall also be adding the Yin to the CPMC's Yang, (as described on another website, I didn't make that description up) the DC Bachelor. Often controversial, never boring, his site is well worth the read. Welcome all, to the DC Sports Links.

Now on to the main point of the post...

Of all the things that can derail a sports team, injuries are by far the worst. Last week, tragedy struck our soccer team, as both myself and I-66 were struck down. The damage is as follows.

I-66 fractured a bone in his foot, he's out 4-6 weeks. He wouldn't let us take a picture of him on his crutches, but we took one anyway when he wasn't looking. Unfortunately, it didn't come out well.

The backstory on this is ironic. I had injured my right knee playing a tournament over the weekend, and couldn't run. Unfortunately, we had a player ejectd, and I-66 went down, so I hobbled onto the field. Then, my other knee, which was perfectly healthy, had an unfortunate encounter with a rock while I was playing defense.

Yeah, it bled a lot, my leg wound up looking like this three separate times throughout the night.

Of course, I decided to do the "typical man thing" as my girlfriend says, and fix it myself. Peroxide, sports cream and band-aids. Didn't work as well as I'd hoped. The upper-left part of this wound is fairly cosmetic. The long streak from the upper right to the lower middle could best be described as a trench.

The bloody aftermath...

Man, did I ever get a lecture from the E.R. doctor the next morning. Apparently, I should have come in for stitches the night before, instead of waiting. My two choices were to have some skin ripped off so they could do correct stitching, or to take option B, which included antibiotics, bandages, and a tetanus shot in the arm. Also, I'm not allowed on a soccer field for 1-2 weeks either.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

Appreciate THIS

One weekend a couple of years ago, a friend, The Captain, and I made the trip up to Carlisle, PA for Fan Appreciation Day at Washington Redskins Training Camp (we’re not worthy!). I drove the not-too-long road there, we had an amazing and cheap breakfast at what I think was called the Carlisle Café or something – tons of food for very little, and made our way over to Dickinson. We saw drills and intrasquad scrimmaging. We saw (and heckled) Cowgirls fans in Cowgirls jerseys, we saw and cheered Super Skin in full costume, we saw Andre Lott knock Chris Doering into next week, turning an otherwise tame scrimmage into something more intense. We got souvenirs. We got back in the car and drove back utterly satisfied.

Now this year the Fan Appreciation day is a lot closer, but it’s on a Friday. Seriously? A weekday? This fan does not feel very appreciated. I understand that since it’s close the attendance is likely to be very high and having it on a weekday will thin the crowd out… if that is indeed the M.O. But see, it was still standing room only in Carlisle. These fans of this team will go far and wide to support the Burgundy and Gold. Having Fan Appreciation Day on a Friday is a Bill Walton TERRRRRRRRIBLE decision. Please fix this. Saint Joe, The Danny, fix this. Please.

Graphic courtesy of

The Office War

I've decided to bring a term over from fantasy sports into the blogging world. The term is "getting sniped." In fantasy sports, it means the team right before you taking a player you were planning on drafting. In the blogging world, I will apply this term to mean "an associate blogger posting on a topic you had been planning."

In this case, the posting in question was DC Cookie's post on pooping. Now, I wasn't going to post anything about women pooping, I preferred to keep my head buried in the sand over that. Like I-66, my little world was shattered by a friend's ex clogging our toilet. No, my post was about the dynamics of the office bathroom, my personal foibles, and so forth. Cookie stole my thunder, but enough time has passed.

I absolutely hate...HATE...having to use a stall at the office. I don't know where this started, I have no problems taking a few minutes out of my day for a piss. But the stall I approach with trepidation. One of those toilet liners is an absolute necessity. I've read that you get more germs on your hands grabbing one of those things than you would if you sat bare assed on the seat, but you know what, I don't care. I just feel better with a lined seat. Once I'm settled in, there are a few scenarios that can occur.

Scenario #1: I finish my business in peace. Pure silence, no one comes in, no one walks by the door, nothing bad happens. I have relieved myself, washed up, and gotten back to my desk, with no one the wiser. Bliss.

Scenario #2: I've just settled into position, and someone else comes into the bathroom. This is never good. Why? Because if I'm having a particularly bad digestive day, I don't want anyone invading my space. When such an occasion occurs, I go on high alert. I develop bat-like senses. After all, I can't see, I'm stuck in a stall, but my hearing goes up about five notches, and I can sense exactly where other people are in relation to me. I will not come out of the stall until the other person leaves. Some say you start to know who's in the stall once you start recognizing the shoes sticking out. I say that's B.S., I don't know what anyone's shoes look like. If they don't have a face, there's plausible deniability, and I'm giving no face. No one's going to be able to pin the stink on me. Go ahead, putter around, take your time washing your hands. I can wait you out in my porcelain castle.

Scenario #2a-2c: Person uses urinal/person washing coffee mug, face/person uses stall next to me. Scenario's 2a and 2b follow the "wait them out" ritual. 2c is an egregious breach ot ettiquette to me. Even though there are only two stalls, don't go into the other one. Scenario 2c is the only time I will leave the stall, when I know I can finish before them, and get out of the bathroom scot free.

Scenario #3: I know it's going to be bad. This occasion arises when I've had too much spicy food (which I can't get enough of) or something else which causes what I like to delicately refer to as "digestive issues*." In this case, I like to engage in Plan Z, which basically means "Save your department and to hell with everyone else." Translation, I go up to the next floor and defile their bathroom instead of ours. I think this is a great idea which should be eventually turned into some sort of reality show. I'm open to ideas.

*This recently occured when I ingested something known as a 9-1-1 wing from a chicken joint named "Cluck You." Someone at work bought 6 of them, and 6 of us each had one. Let me tell you, some people are sissies. One guy about fainted, three others took a bite, threw their wing in the trash and started drinking water. Only myself and one other guy finished. I won't lie, it was hot, but it wasn't so awful I was going to cry about it. It certainly was too hot to make the chicken enjoyable. Anyway, I was feeling pretty manly, and basking in the adoration of co-workers, until about 1/2 hour later when my stomach started hurting. I then blew my nose, most of which turned out to be blood. No kidding. One wing ripped me up inside but good. Later on, the people upstairs were doomed.

Scenario #4: The Sneak Attack. I hate the sneak attack. The sneak attack occurs when you enter the bathroom and see a pair of feet underneath the stall. They aren't moving, nothing seems to be happening. In this case, my guard goes down and I casually approach a stall for some relief. As soon as I'm in midstream, it happens. First a little wind breaking. Then a long, loud, piercing ass-shriek, punctuated by sharp bursts, and occasionally, a splashing noise or six. There is nothing more disgusting than being unable to leave immediately because I'M STUCK AT THE DAMN STALL, and now having to breath through my mouth for the duration. It's worse if I leave and someone comes in, and there's even a chance I might be blamed.

With that all in mind, here are the other types of people I hate in the bathroom:
1. The guy who tries to talk to you between stalls: This should be a death-penalty offense.
2. The guy who doesn't wash his hands: Is there anything worse than this guy? Especially if he wants to shake hands or clap you on the shoulder.
3. The Reader: I still don't understand why some people take the newspaper into the can with them. You're wasting time, and you're willingly prolonging your time in there.
4. The Grunter: Seriously, do we need to know how much effort you're putting in?
5. The Talker: Has anyone else walked in on someone having a conversation on the phone while they're taking a crap? Does the person on the other end of the phone know this? What the hell are you thinking?

There are others, but I'm done for now. Anyone else have a routine they care to share with us? The responses should be interesting.