Christmas angel falls from the counter and becomes an angel of death.
Christmas angel falls from the counter and becomes an angel of death.
the punk rock van lost it's night driving privileges a few nights ago. the left headlight burnt out. this leaves very little punk rock van drive time because daylight is scarce during minnesota winters.
my dad took a look at the dark situation, and told me what needed to be done. he sent me off to the car store to pick up a new bulb and some star bits. now if you're like me, and don't know much about tools, star bits sounds like some space age breakfast cereal. so i went to the car store and picked up the supplies. pulled the punk rock van into the heated garage. and began operating.
after about 15 minutes of unscrewing parts near the headlight with the space cereal, i realized i was getting nowhere. so i pulled out the owner's manual from the glove compartment box and read the page on headlights. lo and behold, the bulb could be changed out using only my hands as tools. it was a quick fix that took less than a minute. no space cereal required. the punk rock van is a 91 model, dare i say super model. i don't think space technology was common in vans back then. so it makes sense that the punk rock van did not need a spaceman's breakfast but only a caveman's hand.
lighting up must be contagious. the rear dome light which never worked. began shining again once the headlight was replaced. it started out with a frantic flickering as if it were possessed, and finally it shined like this little light of mine. the punk rock van is getting better with age. first the horn, now the rear dome light. that's how the punk rock van rolls.
my little dog's a fighter. he was the runt of the liter. yet he had the most energy. we almost named him killer or spike. we thought that would be a funny name for a toy poodle. but we settled on nacho. not named after a chip but rather a king in the bible. my sister was young, and misread necho, the pharaoh of egypt approximately 610-595 BC, as nacho. simple mistake. but everyone assumes he is named after a chip, grandpa calls him nacho cheese. i suppose the dog's fur is the color of tostitos.
nacho is getting old. 91 dog years old in fact. we still call him puppy because of his small size, yet he's losing some of his spunk. he has always struggled with epilepsy. he's growing benign fatty lumps. age spots speckle his skin like a dalmation. he gags often, and that sometimes results in puking. after uneating his food, he walks away ashamed. he knows he's done wrong. but there is always someone in the family there to clean it up. because we know he's getting old and can't control it. so we move on as if it never happened. and treat him like a king.
a little over a year ago, my parent's took me into men's wearhouse. i had a year left of college, and it was time to transition me into adult hood. no more jeans, weird hair and ratty thrift store t-shirts. it was time to prepare for the real world, and i don't mean MTV's real world where people just get drunk, hook up, and fight. i mean real world like wear nice clothes, buy a house and have a family.
we picked out some pants, shirts, ties and a sports coat. then the tailors sized me up. having people measure me kind of made me feel important. like they're making these fine clothes fit me and only me. but as much as the seams aligned with my body, it didn't feel right. if this was what dressing up in the real world felt like, i knew i wasn't going to like it.
the whole get up has only been worn once since i've owned it. that's because rather than trying to fit into uncomfortable clothes for a real world job, i found a job that fit me and my normal attire. a job where i can have weird hair, and wear jeans and converse shoes. a place where i get paid to simply think of ideas, and where i am not confined to the office to think of those ideas. my office extends out to coffee shops and bookstores, wherever ideas can be found. where coworkers stay late past closing hours to play computer games with me. everyone has their own style, and they are allowed to show it. its a place where i get a whole week off for Christmas. welcome to the world of advertising. where my parent's perception of the typical business world is shattered and where i have found a snug fit.
Ricky Bobby: Dear tiny infant Jesus...
Carley Bobby: Hey, um... you know sweetie, Jesus did grow up. You don't always have to call him baby. It's a bit odd and off puttin' to pray to a baby.
Ricky Bobby: Well look, I like the Christmas Jesus best, and I'm sayin grace. When you say grace, you can say it to grown up Jesus, or teenage Jesus, or bearded Jesus, or whatever you want.
the holidays are a wonderful time of year. but often the true meaning of Christmas gets lost. to many it means time off from work and school, time spent with family, an abundance of gifts, and wearing ugly holiday sweaters. these are all good things, but there is more to it. Christmas gets shortened to Xmas, but even that does not hide the true meaning. for the greek letter Chi, X, stood for Christ in the ancient Greek language. the most wonderful gift of all, is that of dear baby Jesus:
And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."
Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests." (Luke 2:8-14)
Cal Naughton, Jr.: I had a dream where Jesus was a dirty old bum, and I was about to sock him in the face because, well he's a dirty old bum, but then I thought, theres something special about him...
Ricky Bobby: Because it was Jesus, right...
Cal Naughton, Jr.: Yeah...
Merry Christmas to all!
naptime. it's taught to babies. despised by toddlers. forgotten in grade school. rediscovered in college. and hard to come by in the adult world.
but i have found my time. it happens every time i don't take the express bus home. when i take the 17 from downtown through uptown to st louis park, i have a good 40 minutes to sleep. sure there are risks involved. but that's what makes naptime so exciting. i could miss my stop and ride the bus all the way back downtown. but i'm always an optimist. and if i nap that long, it means i must really need the sleep. makes the bus really earn that bus fare. there is also the risk that i may wake up next to a large sweaty person who reeks of too much fragrance. but at least i spent part of my time next them asleep. you don't notice those things when you're sleeping. although sometimes they sneak into your dreams. sneak just like Sneak King on the new BK xbox game. this always happens to me come morning. the alarm goes off, and it just becomes some obnoxious buzzing music in my dreams.
i wake up only a couple blocks from my stop. rub my eyes and snap out of my hazy stupor. just in time to pull the stop request line. la la land is waiting for me at home, in the comfort of my own bed.
goodnight. sleep tight. don't let the bed bugs bite.
nothing screams "happy holidays" like hearts, bells, Christmas trees and a parade of teddy bears. if fruit cake died and came back as a sweater, this would be it. the perfect attire for an ugly holiday sweater party.
someone was paid to design this sweater, and someone paid money to buy this sweater new. after a few festive holidays, they abandoned it at a thrift store. that's where i found it, the glittery stitching sparkled in my eyes. i swooped in like rudolph saving the unwanted toys from the isle of misfit toys. only it was an unwanted sweater, not unwanted toy.
i am not one to attend many parties, but i love wearing ugly clothes. so i would have arrived fashionably late, had i not been wearing an unfashionable sweater. there was a delightful overdose of holiday spirit at the party like red & green chips and egg nog. i imagined that if i could drink my sweater, it would taste like egg nog, that stuff is terrible.
hope your holidays are full of hearts, stars and horseshoes, clovers and blue moons, pots of gold and rainbows, and me red balloons. or at least hearts, bells, trees and teddy bears. some snow would be nice too.
perhaps i jinxed myself. i wrote a big game, but underdog is here! didn't show up to play. my receivers, some of the best in the game, didn't muster a single TD. one of my running backs got negative yards. and tony romo was too busy thinking about jessica simpson to have much production.
all great dynasties fall, like the chicago bulls and the ancient romans. i'm pretty sure the ancient romans invented the fat lady for occasions like this. it's over.
everyone loves an underdog story. how else could they be making yet another rocky movie? i don't think it can be any good unless they bring back mr. T. him and his tri-hawk and showing pity to fools, what a nice guy. did you know, mr. T got his PHD? well at least that is what it looked like when i was surfing through channels the other day and some show on lifetime was called dr. T and the women. mr. T was always a ladies man, but now he is a man the ladies can take home to their mothers. but forget the fact i stopped on the lifetime channel long enough to know the name of the program, this is an underdog story.
this is a story about fantasy football. a game made so that sports fans dissatisfied with their home team's performance still have a reason to watch the game. perhaps the most important thing in creating your fantasy team is in the name. i named my team underdog is here! because everyone loves to pull for the underdog. and the story of the season thus far has matched the title i gave my team.
early season looked good for my team, led by donovan mcnabb, who was putting up MVPesque numbers. he led me to one of the biggest victories in our office fantasy league, the defeat of the only undefeated team remaining in the 10th week of play. but then like all good underdog stories, the hero fell. donovan mcnabb suffered a season ending injury, crippling the underdog's chances of getting into the playoffs.
fortunately, there is another twist to this story. while watching a monday night cowboys game, i decided to pick up pretty boy QB tony romo after bill parcells benched drew bledsoe. this sly move saved my team. as romo has had the best QB passer rating since that game and has more than replaced mcnabb in my QB roster slot. it was even rumored that he began dating jessica simpson. so he is more ladies man than mr. T perhaps even dr. T. and he carried my team into the fantasy football playoffs, which begin this weekend. stay tuned.
underdog is here!