The First Blogger Stallion Award

Almost forgot. This weeks "Blogging Stallion Award" goes to Cheeth, for the numerous pictures and fine account he gave of his trip. Granted, Sorro posted and wrote a lot more, but unfortunately we're only counting last week (see previous posting for explanation on why this week doesn't count) and Cheeth is the winner.

I would like to give Sorro props for the Urinal Quiz though. Loads of fun. I only missed one.

While the recipient of the Blogging Stallion Award doesn't get $20 (as has been rumored), they do have the thrill of knowing that the above picture is dedicated to them. They also recieve a complementary bowl of mugi, which is only redeemable in Cedar City.

Busy

Work has been extrodinarily busy this week. Too busy. The type of busy where you go home and stare blankly at walls, your mind so accostomed to concentrated thought that it continues to subconsciously process the hundred things you need to get done tomorrow or forgot to do today, like a fat man at a buffet who has already filled his plate and begun eating but tastes nothing because he is contemplating what to get next. That kind of busy. You know what I mean.

Anyways, it's not that bad, but this is one of the few times since I've started my job that I wished I was doing something else.

In other news, the triathlon is in 3 weeks, I'm trying to get around to painting our living room (Green of all colors), and we're now 7 months pregnant. Speaking of pregnancy, here is a great article I got off McSweeney's. It's noteworthy for the Saved by the Bell reference alone.

I DON'T KNOWWHAT THE BIG DEAL ABOUT HAVINGA BABY IS.
BY WENDY MOLYNEUX
- - - -
If there's one thing I'm tired of, it's hearing about how hard it is to have a baby. I hate to break the news to you, but people have been having babies for literally billions of years. In the olden days, women would have their babies right out there in the field, or on the back of a dinosaur, or, when we were still fish-people, right there in the stream. Then they would put the new baby in a crib made of stones and let a brontosaurus watch it or whatever.

But ask any modern pregnant woman whether she'd let a dinosaur watch her baby and she'll freak out as if you've just said the most outlandish thing ever. I guess irrationality is just one of the many so-called symptoms of pregnancy. Another symptom seems to be a case of the chubs. I don't know if these women know this, but nobody likes a fat girl. Sure, I'd love to order the nachos and the onion rings and claim that I'm "eating for two," but I guess I have something these pregnant women don't: self-respect.

When they aren't busy eating, pregnant women are constantly crying or going to the bathroom. They'll swear up and down that these are more of those famous pregnancy symptoms, but I watch television and I know that unstable women who constantly need to run to the bathroom are drug addicts. Perhaps you remember a certain episode of Saved by the Bell, when Jessie Spano got addicted to caffeine pills and Zack Morris had to stage an intervention to get her to stop the madness? Well, every time one of these pill-addled fatties waddles down the hall toward the loo, I wish I had Zack's courage.

And the worst part is that the endless complaining doesn't end after the baby is born. Rather than appreciating the fact that they had a normal child in spite of the drugs and the reckless overeating, new parents go on and on about how hard child care is. Everyone knows that kids love television and candy. Yet I've met parents who refuse to give a baby candy or let it watch TV, and then complain when it cries. Wouldn't you cry if someone took away your bourbon and cut your cable line just as Desperate Housewives was about to commence? What if Eva Longoria said something especially sassy and you missed it?

And then there are the babies themselves. Try saying something polite to a baby, such as "How are you?" or "Did you see Lost this week? Were you surprised to find out what was in the hatch?" The baby will simply fix you with a cold, fishy stare and not reply at all.

Listen, I don't want to brag, but I've done a lot of hard things in my life, and I'm tired of being told I have "no idea" what it's like to have a baby. Why, just last week my friend Carrie gave me a set of Calphalon pots and pans. These pots and pans are not machine washable, and you can only use nonmetal utensils with them or you'll risk scratching them. In short, my Calphalon pans are just as hard to take care of as a baby. But try pointing this out to a pregnant woman and the next thing you know, she's kicked you in the crotch.

Texas Trip

Pics from my trip to Dallas Texas last week. And some fun facts:

Approximate amount of time it took upon arriving in Dallas for me to see an authentic Texan wearing an authentic UT Longhorns hat: 3 seconds

Approximate amount of time it took to see some sort of city sponsored Dallas Cowboys memorobilia: 26 seconds

Number of "howdy's", "y'all's", and "partner's" I heard during my stay: 3 (I know, I was severely dissapointed too.)

JFK was shot 3 blocks from my hotel. By a guy whose nephew I taught in seminary.

This is the hotel I stayed at, which, as you can see, was built in the post-modern, 1970's We-Think-the-Future-Will-Involve-a-lot-of-Glass-and-Spheres-with-Blinking-Lights motif.

"It's ultra-modern, like living in the not too distant future."*
The hotel was pretty cool. The main lobby area opened straight up to the top of the building with the rooms on outside balconies ala the Luxor in Vegas.


This is the view from just outside my 11th floor room. See the guy sitting at the desk at the bottom middle? Possibly the first time since childhood where I was tempted to spit on a random, unsuspecting person just because it would be funny. Well, ok, the first time since college.

Me in front of the American Airlines center, home of the Dallas Mavericks, Dallas Stars, and to a lesser degree, Dirk Nowitzsky's body odor.

Ah, nothing like going to an NBA game and watching the entire thing on the Jumbotron. See that little guy in purple down on the court? I think that's Ron Artest. Or it may have been one of the Maverick's cheerleaders. I'm not sure.

This is a pic I took after sneaking into the rich people seats, you know, the seats for people who "have money", or "are willing to spend more than 10 bucks on a ticket." Or who "have professions that contribute to society." Snobs.



An exciting picture of the room.

They have buildings and trees in Dallas. See?

*Extra points for anyone who can get the "It's ultra-modern. Like living in the not-too distant future" reference. (This time I'm looking at Cheeth)

Speaking of the Cheeth, he is currently beating Sorro in the race for the Blogging Stallion award, thanks to the deluge of pictures and sheer length of his last few postings. Sorro, on the other hand, has only a rant on the sorry state of packaging in society from last Thursday. Advantage: Cheeth.

Blogger repentance, part II

I'm sorry. I've been a horrible blogger. I have no excuse for not blogging. My breaks recently have been spent playing Nonograms (pretty addictive) and, as usual, reading ESPN.com. Not blogging. I'm no Sorro, who has recently become the surging stallion of the blogging world; or even a sporadically posting Cheeth, Genki Brady, or Tights. No, I fear I've sunk to the Sidwell-esque level of "Not Blogging". I will do better. I promise.

Whew, that feels better. Confession always helps.

Anyways, I just got back from my Texas trip so I've got a bunch of pics and mildly amusing stories to tell. I'll get some pics up tomorrow. Maybe. I'll try. My wife's pregnant though, so I can't really guarantee anything.