Secret Santa is dying

A few times a year, a story pops up where someone with a lot of money gives some of it back. What makes it interesting and special is that instead of donating it to a faceless do-good type operation - which is fine, don't get me wrong - they do it quietly, face to face and to help out just one person.

A waitress in a small diner in the middle of nowhere is asked what the biggest tip she's ever been given has been and when she goes to pick up the check, there are hundreds of dollars or more waiting for her.

When the credit card receipt is checked, it turns out the guys who swung in on a quiet night for pie and coffee owns a multi-million dollar company. Only then does word spread and the media gets involved.

The really good stories end quickly because the guy with the thick bankroll doesn't want to talk about it.

It's happened again.

Like I said, it's always pretty cool and I'm not sure how I'd handle it if I suddenly made a small fortune. If you spend time scrapping and saving, I'd imagine a huge $1,000 tip would still sting no matter how much money you made - you never really get out of the mindset that you need to save and sacrifice.

Still, I love these stories when they come through. Someone gives way too much and only to try and make life a little bit better for a stranger they just met.

It's enough to entice you to drop a $20 bill in the guy's cup at the stoplight. It sounds like that's how this secret Santa got started.

(Image from loc.gov)

Don't even joke about stuff like that

The Girl and I had to go to church last week to meet with a deacon who would be filling out the paperwork to allow us to move ahead with church counseling, church-related wedding planning and other things we need to complete to get married - you guessed it - in a church.

Let me just say that some of the questions were odd and I had to restrain myself several times to keep from making smart-ass comments that may or may not have put our wedding in jeopardy.

I really wanted to ask if when they asked a bride and groom (to be) sitting at the same table in the same room when they were engaged - and did so seperately - if they've ever had different answers.

I can see if it were some sort of test and all, but still.

Also, I had about three green card-related jokes to the question, "Are you here to be married in a Catholic church free of duress..."

Maybe four.

All would have killed. Most would have killed the wedding.

The thing they don't tell you

I was on my way home from work when I saw the first wisps of smoke from the orphanage.

Risking life and limb, I sped to the fire and started grabbing as many kids as I could, fighting smoke and flame to save orphan after orphan until the fire department could arrive.

That's why it's been so quiet here lately. That, or I got an XBox 360.

Oh, Microsoft will sing all day about the upgrades to graphics, processing speeds and networking options, but the thing they don't tell you?

It will sap you of all motivation to do anything not related to the XBox 360. Work is a vector to gain cash to buy more games, pay for acessories or keep the cable modem humming along.

In reality? You're like a junkie, sneaking off from work with a single-minded purpose - to play more XBox.

Sony and Microsoft may be squaring off for what the industry is calling a fight for your living room, to create a system that will handle gaming, music, movies and an assortment of network-based entertainment, but you know who the real loser will be?

The crack trade.

Crack might be addictive and all, but it's not zombie killing, you know?

(Image from XBox.com)

A house divided

I'm going to take a bath in my Pick 'Em league this week.

With losses by New England, Kansas City and Minnesota, I took a big dump at the top half of my picks for the week. The only reason I'm not a complete basket case tonight is because of that last one.

Green Bay beat the Vikings and I couldn't be more pleased.

In our house, I can get pretty geeked up over football, especially later in the fall and to combat this, The Girl made no secret of her rooting interests from the first fall we were together.

Already today I've compared the team and its fans to all sorts of nasty things/groups and may or may not have crossed several lines in doing so. I also mentioned loudly on several occasions that the Vikes were behind because they were bad people.

I spent most of the game by myself or with the dog.

Still, for having such low expectations, it's been a good week. The team isn't as awful as I'd thought and they're stealing a win here and there. I have no illusions about the end of the season game in Chicago, but at least now I'm not shrinking in disgust. It's a dangerous place to be as a fan.

Tonight though, it's a happy time - even when The Girl ramps up her cheering for the Vikings dependent on the score of the games - and the Favre Watch on Packers.com seems a little less ridiculous.

It wasn't Packers/Bears and the fans play possum a little too much for my liking (just listen for the air to come out of the building when Minnesota goes down by more than two otuchdowns next time) but it was a nice win. I was pretty excited to see Favre jumping around like old times. I wasn't even that irked about the play calling which seemed like a kid picking up the controller at Best Buy to demo the new Madden game - Uhh... the only reciever I know is Driver and he's good, right?

I'm pretty sure I'm going to write 23-17 in the dirt on the truck door before I head to work tomorrow. Let's just say I might be looking forward to a Monday for a change.

(Photo from jumpandphilshh.com)

Einstein, Hawking... Manning?

On the short list of those in sports that I simply can't stand, Peyton Manning is one of the guys that I have no personal reasons to dislike.

Give me Alex Rodriguez for his Yankee-related misdeeds, Joe Buck and Tim McCarver for their yearly attempts to ruin the road to the World Series and Luke Walton for general douchery, but as far as Manning goes, he's just a general knucklehead who hasn't done much to me personally.

He hasn't knocked my team from the playoffs or killed them with a last-second drive. No, he's just been a general annoyance and his high-profile on the national scene just leaves him little place to hide from my unfounded anger.

Right now Indianapolis is playing New England in the Sunday night game and after a week's worth of columns and hype, it's nice to see the tide turning on the king of the late-season choke job. Especially with the match-up against Tom Brady, the natinal media has picked up the banner for "That's great, Peyton... but why can't you win when it matters?" and I couldn't be happier.

I think the breaking point for me was before the 2004 season when the league handed down a new set of rules for the defense that made it illegal to do anything more than speak softly to wide receivers after the Colts bitched and moaned all winter about how they were mugged in the previous year's playoffs.

To this, I say, "Easy, ladies - it's football, not figure skating."

The general consensus was that Manning was a genius because he called audibles at the line and helped to tailor make the team's game plan from line line. He was so smart that he was able to read a defense and call new plays on the fly, earning him a reputation as a genius...

Right.

You know who is the real genius? Tom Moore. Somehow, he's pulling a paycheck from the Colts for a job that we've been told for years is being done by Manning. I'd take a six-figure salary to hold a clipboard and fetch coffee 16 Sundays a year, wouldn't you?

That year the Colts broke free under the new rules, rolled up scoring records and ran roughshod over the league's defenses. Then the playoffs came as always and the Colts still lost. New rules, what seemed to be the unspoken blessing of the league and in the end Indy crapped the bed and went home early.

Later that winter, reports came back to the States that Manning and his wife were vacationing in Mexico and he was still pouting about it. Mrs. Manning dragged old Peyton out of the house for sun, fun and margaritas on the beach and he spent the whole trip making bitchy comments about how he was paying for all of it, even if she used her credit card, and generally acting like a big baby.

I took the cutout of that story and posted it in my cube. Even if the Packers are due for a series of rebuilding years, this storyline will keep me interested in football until they can come back.

Anyways, this week has been interesting as the new storyline is how Brady is the closer and knows how to win and Manning may throw up gaudy numbers but has yet to show he knows how to put games away in the playoffs.

I just take a liking to the unheralded QBs making a bigger splash in the league (on the whole) that the top picks that are churned out yearly. (Going back now it's Ben Roethlisberger for the Steelers last year, Brady twice, Brad Johnson, Brady again, Trent Dilfer, Kurt Warner and then John Elway. Maybe later in the season I'll go back and pull draft positions for the QBs for the past 20 years, but looks back to the history of the league and there are plenty of late-round superstars. Why this happens is a source of constant debate, but it makes things a lot more interesting.

Regarding the Colts, there are as many theories as scoring records at this point - from Indy being tired in December after blowing teams out all season to a squad that fails to grasp the "team concept."

I don't care what happens as long as they keep losing.

(Photo from CNN.com)

Mother Nature, what a gal

It started out inncoently enough - Some friends and I were ordering pizza together at my last job and as we worked out what would work for all of us, I let my hatred of olives surface once and for all.

"Olives? The olive is nature's bum's asshole."

I stand by the statement.

Over at the Chronically Insane household, he's got to watch the language around the kids and such, but it's leeching into their vocabulary as well.

This makes me happy.

Anyways, I tend to add and subtract as it suits my purposes, but learned a new one this weekend.

Already on the master list are:

Corn: Nature's tracer bullet and one we as a couple cribbed from a television show that went under a year or so ago and whose name I'll never be able to remember. That one was: Ants: Nature's pallbearers.

This weekend's revelation?

Fire: Nature's rake.

(Image from Ouaj.com)

Ugly Americans

There's a show devoted to diners across the country on the Food Network late tonight and it's showing all sorts of people eating all sorts of things that are awful for you.
From chili burgers buried under a half pound of onion rings to meatloaf baked in alfredo sauce, I'm pretty sure I'll have chest pains tomorrow just from watching this show. Actually, they're starting now.

At a South Carolina joint there's a local girl who is home to visit talking about how the food around her new home sucks. Her new home is Paris, France.

While I won't fight her on this as I am one of the worst culprits when it comes to dragging my feet on international travel - My stance is that there's plenty of cool stuff stateside that I haven't seen yet, so why devote more time and money on a vacation when there's so much to be done here - I just wonder how much smack-talking she does when she gets back to Paris.

While I haven't given it a boatload of thought yet, there's really not a lot of middle ground when it comes to American stereotypes these days.

It's pretty much redneck or stuffy blueblood and California cool versus cowboy when you're painting Americans with a wide brush.

Don't get me wrong, I don't see myself as any of the above and look around and see perfectly fine, perfectly normal people and I feel as good as the next guy when I see all those honest, hard-working Americans in truck commercials on during the football games, but I'd bet if you polled 100 people on the street in any of the world's major cities, they wouldn't have a clue about your run of the mill folks that you'll see on a daily basis.

Then again, when we crap a new McDonald's onto some unsuspecting populace every 15 to 20 seconds, I can't really blame them.

(Photo from theotherpage.com)

It's like Punk'd but, you know, not funny

Wanna know the best only good thing about The Jamie Kennedy Experiment?

You can tell that the people Kennedy "tricks" have no clue who he is and that there's a show that he's currently hosting.

In fact, right now I'm betting half the people reading this are scratching their heads and looking confused (To answer your questions, he's the hyper guy from Scream and it's a hidden camera show like Punk'd but with boring people instead of celebrities).

I bet there are hours upon hours of B Reel on the cutting room floor that are just Kennedy trying to explain who he is and that yes, in fact, he does have a show.

I mean, what would your reaction be if someone told you you'd been "X'd?"

I'd probably say, "What the hell are you talking about?" And, "Why is there a rubber rat in my soup?" Also, "No, I won't sign the waiver. Fuck you, I'm glad you wasted 50 bucks in film."

(Photo from UTA.edu)

It'd have conclusions you'd jump to!

I read the comments made by Kanye West at the MTV Europe Music awards and immediately e-mailed Frankie.

I asked him if he saw it as the hop-hop version of the Office Space meltdown about, "I'm a people person, dammit!"

Frankie thinks it's the hip-hop Jump to Conclusions mat.

I'm torn.

Also, I've watched this damned thing a few times, and I can't tell if he's kidding or not. I really can't. Also, after seeing the video that he lost to, he just might be right.

It looks like a bunch of hungover guys trashing an IKEA. Not really cutting edge. Or jumping canyons and shit.

Boom!

I'm watching a half-hour program on the progression of Madden Football to the next-gen consoles and it's getting to be pretty scary.

The horrors and twisted beauty of 300 pounds of meat springing to life combined with every grunt... Yeah, John's got a hard road getting out of bed these days.

Also, there's apparently a plan to hire ex-players and pro wrestlers to come to your house every Sunday and beat the living piss out of you to make the game stick with you all week.

Did you know they're creating animations for blades of grass now?

Or that the audio contains footstep and breathing tracks?

And that they change the sounds of rain depending if you're running or standing?

I was considering picking up a copy now that baseball season is over, but seeing this I can't see how I've managed to live this long without an XBox 360. I mean, really - are you aware of how empty I feel right now?

Considering this game and car commercials are my only connections to popular music these days, I'm pretty much forced to buy this game soon, but the chance to see a fully animated version of David Carr's face as it gets stuffed inside his anus 15 times a game because the Texans management has no business running an NFL team is almost too much to resist.

I can almost smell the virtual Ben-Gay and it's calling my name.

(Photo from MLV.com)

Today's garage tip

Seeing as this information exists no where else on the Internet (trust me, I checked), here is the simple code for resetting the oil change/service light in a 2002 Mercury Cougar.

First, get the old oil out of the car somehow and get some new stuff in.

Then, press the "Units" and "Reset" buttons at the same time and hold for five seconds.

The little wrench light will turn off and you will be free to resume your life.

Seriously, kids - if you keep your gas tank full and replace the oil regularly, you'll keep a car running for decades. It's really not that difficult anymore.

(Photo from consumerguide.com)

Fresh blood

It's halftime of the Dallas/Carolina game and Tony Romo is one of the story lines they're pushing from the broadcast booth.

For the non-football junkies, Romo has taken over as the starting quarterback in Big D after two seasons of Drew Bledsoe residing there as the top stopgap solution for the Cowboys.

Following the retirement of Troy Aikman, there's been a bit of a revolving door in the Lone Star State and Bledsoe is just the latest victim there.

That's not what has me thinking, though.

I just can't imagine being the big dog for years and then having to get used to the idea of being benched and essentially knowing that your career - and to a greater extent, your identity - is drawing to a close.

With few exceptions, quarterbacks and other athletes are simply not useful at some point in their careers and are dumped without much afterthought. Except for the superstars who make their way through the league and are kept on past their expiration dates, most simply fade away, replaced by a younger player with a stronger arm or livelier legs.

Contrast this against the jobs most of us settle into. You keep working and keep learning and eventually become a bigger asset to your organization on the day of your retirement than you were on the day of your hiring.

Teachers, accountants and salepeople all gather knowledge and skill sets that are built upon and added to as they progress and in more cases than not, they become more valuable as they pile on the years.

It has to be somewhat jarring to know that you peak fairly early as an athlete and after a few good years you can spend all your time studying, but your body will eventually betray you.

So, I'm now watching Bledsoe ride the pine and hang on to a clipboard for Bill Parcels, but it's exactly how things are supposed to be. Planned obsolescence is a part of the game, but it can't be any easier to take when it happens on an individual basis. I don't even have a particular attatchment to the guy and it's still pretty interesting to watch.

Imagine being the best athlete at your grammar school with a cannon arm in third grade, picked to be the all-time quarterback in playground games at recess, taking over the high school team as a sophomore, having colleges break down your door to get you to take a free diploma from their school, being a Top 5 pick and making a splash in the NFL.

You don't even have to be an NFL starter to follow that career arc - even the last guy on the roster was probably the best player his county ever produced, and definitely the best player ever to play at his high school.

Now, you're blog fodder for disgruntled fans and angry talk radio callers - people make a living making fun of you on ESPN and the general consensus is that your team is better off with you sitting on the sidelines.

That has to be harsh to wake up one morning and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the naysayers are right and that you're on borrowed time as the alpha dog. The game isn't about to stop and you only have years ahead of empty Sundays, watching the next big thing do your old job.

Some people really bash away on athletes who take too long to leave or are always around the game after retirement, but it has to be very difficult to walk away from it cold turkey.

Let's face it, there is only so much space in a broadcast booth to stash away the league's alumni.

(Photo from ProFootballHoF.com)

Freaking amateurs...

When I was in college, we'd go through the dorms and round up the sample-sized shampoos, toothpaste tubes and razors that came free when we bought our books. See, the story was that all these companies would give us travel-sized shit in the hopes that we'd develop brand loyalty.

Want to know how to get college kids to buy your shit? Price it 50 cents to a dollar cheaper than similar products, it's just that simple.

While you might assume - especially given my history - that I was using this to make bathtub meth or something of that ilk, you'd be wrong. We'd use the Residence Hall Association to round up all of these tiny samples, drop them in boxes and I'd take them over to the city's shelters.

When you end up at a shelter, chances are that personal hygiene isn't a top priority at the moment you arrive, if you get the drift.

Long story short is that shelters of all kinds are slammed around the holidays. People shelters, dog shelters, any and all of the above are flush with cash and food from Thanksgiving to New Year's and they have a hard time making the ends meet in June and July.

While you'll feel like a prick turning down donation requests in the winter, trust me - give your money in the summertime and they'll cash your check that afternoon. (Make up a half dozen sandwiches in December if you feel that guilty.)

I wonder if ghost hunters get pissy about people getting jacked up for Halloween because no one pays attention until now. Do you think they pack it in and go on vacation this week, or are they even more excited about dead stuff than usual?

(Photo from DogInc.jp)

How badass is that?

I needed to pick up a test DVD today so I can watch movies while pretending to work... uh, properly test audio and visual solutions for today and tomorrow. (For the record, I grabbed The Muppets Take Manhattan because it's live-action and contains no curse words. Also, the Swedish Chef is my own personal Jesus, but that's neither here nor there.)

I swung through the video game aisle and couldn't pass on the Warriors game by Rockstar. For those of you who talked to girls before your early-20s, Rockstar makes the Grand Theft Auto series and brand new Bully.

They're one of my favorite companies these days, and I seriously contend that the music snobs of today fighting about Capitol Records versus RCA will fight in 10 years about Rockstar versus Electronic Arts.

I could be wrong.

Anyways, I've only played about a half hour, but so far I've beaten a homeless man, mugged someone, stolen a car radio, broke into a medical supply store and took drugs.

Needless to say, The Girl isn't as excited as I am to have this thing in our house.

Oh, and for the record, I'm going to make the shittiest parent when it comes to parental controls. I'll either have to be a raging hypocrite or hide my super-awesome and ultra-violent games like most guys hide porn.

(Image from: images.tomshardware.com)

Finding new ways to feel inferior

Don't get me wrong - I like my job most days occasionally but lately I keep getting beaten around by the overwhelming feeling that there has to be something else to do in this town.

Granted, I never set out to do what I do and loved my job as a writer/editor much more than anything I've done in the half-decade since, but that doesn't stop me from being good at the jobs I do in the interim.

Now I'm in audio-visual technologies and I take care of making sure all of the installs go through as smoothly as possible, which is to say, not smoothly at all, but with enough apologies that the customers don't usually sue the pants off of us.

Lately, this has been a bit problematic, because despite my best attempts to be mediocre, I'm somehow being seen as an asset to the company and as such, I'm given more work. This both surprises and stresses me.

It pay's good enough, the hours can be pretty flexible and no one micro-manages me, but I'm faced with the simple fact that I will never be talking to someone and say with pride, "See that mid- to low-level local company? I made sure they can play DVDs at staff meetings for them.

Doesn't have much of a ring to it.

The sorry thing is that the big push for me was our guilty pleasure TV show, How I Met Your Mother where one of the characters is an architect and is talking about pointing out his first building.

I have the feeling that the ship has sailed on that one for me. The strange thing is that I feel no more or less pride in the jobs I do here than similar ones I've done before - in comparson I took a great deal of pride in writing a good story or helping one of my reporters get rolling or finished, so it's not really apples to apples there - it's just a feeling that I really hate taking pride in jobs I do now.

I don't tank them, but when they're done there's not a lot left to be said.

I think we need to start selling strictly to orphanages and crippled dogs. That and I need to shut up and work - when I'm worrying about the impact of my day's work through the prism of a network sitcom, I obviously have bigger issues at play here.

(Photo from tv.yahoo.com)