Champions

Second team to win two consecutive NIT championships!

G O
G A M E C O C K S

(yeah, it's NIT, but I really don't care.)

George Mason?

Okay, I’m sorry, but today’s basketball events just beg to be commented on.

First off, accolades to Florida for knocking out Villanova 75 to 62. However, since all I know about Villanova is that they were a number one seed, they’re in Pennsylvania, and the school’s name sounds like a bad drag queen, I’m pretty indifferent to their loss.

But, there was another game today.



GOOD LORD. Where did George Mason come from? This number eleven seed just knocked off the number one seed UConn, 86 to 84 in overtime. This number eleven seed just beat the last two national champions (UConn and UNC). This number eleven seed just blindsided everyone.

There are no more number one seeds left in the tournament. And with that fact, I think it's safe to say that about 98% of the brackets are now decapitated. I can't wait 'till Saturday--people, it's on!

I. LOVE. THIS. GAME.

Live Action Simpsons

In the interest of those of you who have no interest in basketball, and thus may have been bored by my blog lately, here’s a little internet treasure:

Tonight, the legendary opening credits of The Simpsons will be done by live actors! That’s right; live action Homer, Bart, Marge, Lisa, and Maggie!

Besides the lack of spiky and beehive hairdos, the accuracy of the video is amazing. So, in case you will miss this landmark Simpsons moment, I provide you with this link.


http://www.tvgasm.com/archives/miscellaneous_tv/001828.php

Beware of the Brackets

I have never been so engrossed in one sports event as I am in the Basketball Tourney (which may be due to the fact that the tourney is several sporting events, but you get my point). My weekend plans are now built around when the best games are on and I’m able to discuss teams and players with some degree of knowledge (although my knowledge usually amounts to reiterating what I’ve heard on ESPN and CBS).

But one piece of knowledge that I have acquired all on my own is this: DO NOT FILL OUT A BRACKET. Ever since Friday, I’ve had multiple friends complain that their brackets are screwed up/dead/destroyed/obliterated/or currently serving as mulch in a hamster cage. My friends have lost money because no one expected Bradley to do this well, and they’ve lost pride because…really…Wichita State? Now, these friends won't be able to fully enjoy upcoming games because they'll be praying that the remains of thier once great bracket will be survive 'till the end.

Luckily, my basketball naivety prevented me from even attempting to guess which teams would go how far. As such, I am able to watch and simply enjoy the athleticism and occasional buzzer beaters. I can learn more about the game without bemoaning my ignorance of Georgetown and their apparent awesomeness. I have no extraneous concerns about how one team’s win or loss will personally affect me.

Now, I will say that the losses acquired by North Carolina and NC State suck (really UNC, George Mason, come on now). And yes, I am now relegated to root for Duke and Boston College, simply based on their “local boys” status and ACC ties respectively. But I didn’t lose any money, or pride, due to the UNC or NC State loss, so I can deal.

So, I suggest to you my friends, stay away from building brackets (unless you’re a compulsive gambler, in which case, stop watching sports altogether). But you probably won’t heed any of my warnings, so I’ll be here to console you next year when—let’s see what would be random—Northern Iowa beats Texas.

Homosexual Repellent

Let me first say that I have wanted to comment on the Dubai Port deal, the resulting Republican Congressional revolt against The White House, and the enervated President for some time. However, the whole situation changes every day. Thus, I’m going to wait until the situation seems relatively resolved…then see if I still care.

Now, to the post proper:

Today was another beautiful, spring-like day that just screamed for me to spend some time outside. So, I headed over to Caffé Driade, which is a lovely, intimate, locally-owned coffee shop with great outdoor sitting areas and an open-air interior.

Upon arrival, I walked up to make my drink order and was greeted by a tattoo-covered, funky hair, slightly emaciated male employee. Now, Tattoo-guy (as he shall hereafter be called) was obviously gay, but if you know me, I go for preppy guys. Thus, I was fairly indifferent about interacting with the first gay guy that I’ve come across since…um…forever.

So, I got my drink, and sat down to begin studying the GRE. After about an hour, when I finally began to actually understand percentages, a guy dressed like a Banana Republic model walked into the shop. His excellent wardrobe, 4 o’clock shadow, and general attractiveness peaked my interest. “Hmmm,” I thought, “this could be promising.” So I turned on my game of…trying to make eye contact, because if you recall, that’s my only game (sigh).

However, a few seconds after I spotted Banana Republic-guy (hereafter, that’ll be his name), he and his female friend left the shop. I shrugged off my missed opportunity and continued my studying. Then, I turned to my right and saw Banana Republic-guy waiting in line. I awkwardly contorted myself to try to see if he was looking even remotely in my direction, but alas, he did not seem to notice me.

So, when Banana Republic-guy is next in line, Tattoo-guy asks how he can help him. To this, Banana Republic-guy hands Tattoo-guy a card and says, “I wanted you to have my number.” HIS NUMBER! Banana Republic-guy just hit on Tattoo-guy. I. Am. Shocked.

Now, I know different people have different taste, but what the hell? How did I get overlooked for Tattoo-guy. When did someone spray me with homosexual repellent?

To add insult to injury, once Banana Republic-guy left, Tattoo-guy got all gitty. In fact, despite the fact that he apparently just got into a new relationship two weeks ago, he couldn't help but tell all his friends at the coffee shop what just happen-which meant that I had to hear the story repeated. A lot. I mean, really, Tattoo-guy (who's in a relationship) gets hit on, and I (single and preppy) don't? Once again, I throw up my hands in defeat.

Related to this disheartening episode (and in case you were wondering) according the mutual friends, Sam is not gay, I haven’t seen John since that night, and Patrick never called me back. In addition, gay internet connection sites have produced nothing except for one particularly self-centered jerk. I’m sorry to say that today did not help elevate my frustration and hopelessness on the issue of finding a mate anytime this decade. (sigh, again.)

But, on a funny-and purely inconsequential-note, apparently my blog has spawned another blog. I guess this makes Nick’s blog a grandfather.

My A.W.O.L. Cell phone

Saturday night, I went to Raleigh to hang out at my friend Jon’s house. It was a good, fun-filled evening that ended with Jon, Al, and I talking briefly on the porch. I mention this because when I went to the porch, I didn’t realize that Jon was about to go to bed. So, all of sudden, the conversation ended, the night came to a close, and Al and I left the porch, heading to our respective cars as Jon headed back inside, locking the door behind him.

As I got into my car, I realized that I didn’t have my cell phone. No biggie, right? So, as Al drove off, I headed back to the house, and knocked on the door. No answer. I rang the door bell. Same (lack of) response. I kept trying, figuring that surely Jon, or two of the other people in the house, will hear the doorbell and let me inside to retrieve my a.w.o.l. phone. Well, I’m guessing since the house is two stories, they didn’t hear the doorbell, because I was still stuck outside.

And it was then that I realized the inherent paradox of my predicament: normally, if I left something in a friend’s house, and needed entry inside, I’d use my cell phone to call them. However, without use of my cell phone to retrieve my cell phone, it was time to use that Furman 100,000 dollar education for something. ”Ha,” I thought, “I’ll use the back door!”

Yeah, the back door is locked.

I stared up at the second floor window, hoping to suddenly develop telepathic abilities. Instead, I resorted to the classic “throw a pebble at the window” trick. But, it being 2:30 in the morning, the moon didn’t quite illuminate the ground well enough for me to find a pebble. What, prey tell, is small enough to be thrown high distances, yet blunt enough to make a sound to get someone’s attention?

So here I am, at 2:30 a.m., throwing my CHAPSTICK at Britt’s window. Yes, chapstick. I can now say that I’ve thrown chapstick at a window. Life=complete.

After about a thousand rounds of chuck-the-chapstick, I gave up. I got into my car and set off for the 30 minute drive back to Chapel Hill, sans cell phone.

Have you ever been without your cell phone? It’s horrible. I felt so incomplete. I was cut off from the outside world. What if my tire blew out and I needed AAA? What if a friend needed me to pick them up from somewhere? What if Engin saw the post and got the urge to call me? Certainly, he needed someone to console him over the 74-72 double overtime lost to Boston College. Trust me, I’m the man for that job. (And how would Engin have my cell number you ask? Um...stop trying to use that logic stuff. He would have my number okay; it's called "destiny" people.)

Anyway, I got home, and used AOL IM to tell Jon about my situation. Don’t you love the multiple ways to communicate nowadays?

Fast-forward to the present: after a drive to Raleigh in the daylight hours, my cell phone is back in my possession, and world order has been restored. Yay.

Hey wait. I just thought of something. Yesterday, I paid $2.19 a gallon for gas, and then saw gas for $2.13 a gallon. That; plus my cell phone catastrophe…umm…when did I cause a “hidden car” situation?

The Hidden Car Pledge

We’ve all had this experience:

You’re in a crowded parking lot, wondering where all these other people came from, and why they decided to come to the same place that you need to shop. You drive as slow as your car will allow, keeping a sharp eye out for that elusive vacant parking space so that you may get your errands done. As you drive, you pray to your respective deity for a space, but your hope wanes, and you begin to contemplate parking at the McDonalds across the street.

But then, eureka, there it is! You’ve won. You’re the winner of the parking lot lottery. There’s the space of your dreams. You swear it has a bright aura emanating from it’s…wait…what...there’s a MINI COOPER in your space. You curse, grumble, and move on, wishing you had a voodoo doll for the owner of that blasted “hidden car.”

Yes, the hidden car is the bane of all drivers’ existence. It taunts us, thwarting our noble goal of parking our vehicle. You can (and should) hate a Ford Expedition for its gas-guzzling, planet-killing properties, but at least it’ll never be a hidden car.

So, while a Ford Expedition will never be a hidden car...



...my Ford Focus hatchback is. I hadn’t realized this until recently, when two friends brought it to my attention. It seems that the Ford Focus had been the culprit in many a hidden car situation for them. And when I learned that my pride and joy was an evil hidden car, I felt such shame. How could this be? How many people have I thwarted in their attempts to park? How could I go on with life?

So, friends, I make a pledge to you and world:

I, Warren, shall park my car with its hidden car properties in mind. I shall never pull to the very front of the space, so that I may ensure that my car’s back end shall be visible by all who pass by. If I do not adhere to this procedure, may the consequence be dire.

May I get stuck behind a driver going five miles under the speed limit—in the fast lane!
May my grocery store cashier need to do a price check. On. Every. Item. In. My. Cart.
May I get bothered by salesmen of cell phones, European lotions, expensive fragrance and anything else that the mall has in its arsenal.
May the bartender inform me that they do not carry the only beers that I drink, but let them be in amble supply Natty Light.
May I fill up my car’s tank, only to see gas for cheaper down the road.
May I be subject to any and all other punishments that the Parking Lot Gods see fit if I single-handily cause yet another hidden car situation.

Friends, I trust you will keep me accountable with this pledge. Thanks in advance.

A new reason for me to love basketball

People, meet Engin Atsur

Are you ready for some...basketball?

Football is over, baseball isn’t here yet, and I live in the epicenter of Tobacco Road (seriously, I’m pretty much equidistant from UNC and Duke). Hello college hoops: welcome to my life.

In the past month, I’ve watched the most college basketball that I’ve ever watched. I’ve gone to parties to watch basketball; I’ve gone to sports bars; I’ve called up friends to find out where they’re watching the games; I’ve put Sports Illustrated on my internet favorites list (ok people, pick your jaws off the floor. Frosty, I’m looking at you).

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a little confused with the game. My main gripe is, unlike in football, NO ONE EXPLAINS FOULS. The players are all tangled under the key, and suddenly the ref blows his whistle. But, before there can be an instant replay so I can figure out who did what to whom, the fouled-on player is taking his free throw. What the hell, what just happened? Apparently, in this sport, I’m supposed to actually listen to the moronic announcers.

My recent focus on basketball is accompanied with actual basketball opinions. So let me say that while Duke is doing very well this year, I think we learned from the Panthers/Seahawks game (which still stings a little) that a team can not count on going all the way based on one tactic. The Seahawks understood that if you shut down the Delhomme/Smith combination, the Panthers have nothing. If someone figures out how to shut down J.J. Redick, or at least limit his impact, Duke is in trouble. I’m not saying that a team will actually figure out how to enervate “the J.J. affect,” I’m just saying that I don’t think that Duke will win the title this year. That seems like an honor that UConn is going to get.

Now, you’d think that this basketball fascination is all roses, but oh no, it comes with a dilemma: Which team to root for. I didn’t go to college here, so I don’t have an allegiance to UNC, Duke, or NC State, but it seems like UNC is in a “rebuilding” year, so I can’t fairly judge their performance this year. I’ve already expressed my issue with Duke’s game this year. As far as N.C. State, it’s not hard to pull for the underdogs, and as far as Tobacco Road goes, that’s the moniker that State holds. Yet, how long can you root for the underdogs? I mean, after a while, you’ll get frustrated with your team almost pulling it together.



My current solution is to simply pull for all three; you know, a sort of “support the area schools” thing. That’s probably going to fly for about another two weeks, and then I’m going to have to pick a team. But until I then, I’m just going to enjoy my sport du jour.

Why's life gotta get in the way of living?

You know that adage, “if it’s not one thing, it’s another?” Well, I’ve come to appreciate that statement. Let me start at the beginning.

A month after I moved to Chapel Hill, I felt that I was settled enough with work and living arrangements to start studying the GRE. If you don't know, the GRE is an entrance exam for graduate school—it’s akin to the LSAT for law school and the MCAT for med school.

I figured I’d study for about a month and take the test at the beginning of November. Well, I soon found an obstacle thwarting my goals—money. The GRE cost $115. Granted, I could have easily had that much money, if it weren’t for that pesky car payment; but if I didn’t have that pesky car payment, I’d be walking everywhere, so…

My only choice was to try and save money while continuing to study for the GRE. I figured working 35 hours a week at $13.50 an hour; I’d have the money in no time. To my dismay, North Carolina had other plans. Friends, N.C. taxes the hell out of you, consider yourself warned. (And don’t even get me started on how I’m still paying for social security when it’s clear that the money won’t be there when I get old).

Skip ahead a few months, and I finally have enough money to take this damn test. Woohoo, GRE, I come! Wait, no, not so fast. It’s January, and my contract job is scheduled to end at the end of February (I knew it would end in February before I moved, so I can’t be mad). Thus, I started another dreaded job search. Meanwhile, the contract job got an extension, so it looked like I could count on it to last until April--sweet. However, it seemed wise to continue the job search in order to transition from one job to another smoothly.

The job search came to an end two weeks ago when I got a part-time job at Triumph, a community-based treatment service for people afflicted with behavioral, emotional, and mental difficulties. I figured I could work both jobs, and when the contract job ended, I could find an inconsequential retail position (read: not dealing with the seriousness of people’s lives).

So finally, with enough money in my checking account, and no concerns about finding a job, it was looking like the GRE was within my grasps.

Then, Friday came. The boss at the contract job said that because data had been trickling in from the field (long story, don’t ask), we were now only allowed to work 20-25 hours a week. And while not explicitly said, this also meant that the job would be lucky to last until early March. Looks like I'll be hunting for that inconsequential retail position sooner than expected.

So, here it is, mid-February, and I still haven’t taken the damn test. In fact, because job hunting is a part-time job itself, the amount of time that I can dedicate to studying has dropped significantly. Thus, I’ve probably forgotten whatever math I learned back in October (btw, I hate math with a fiery fiery passion that knows no bounds, if you didn’t know).

All of this aggravation has resulted in a very difficult realization: I’m probably not going to grad school this fall. Even if I found a job, and took the GRE by mid-March, I’d have to scramble to get applications turned in, and pay the applications fees (or see about getting them waved), travel for interviews on the campuses, etc. All of that seems pretty much impossible when I have car taxes due soon, and I have to think about buying a mattress, other furniture, and finding a new place when my current lease expires in May. That would be just too much happening all at once.

Friends, I have this wonderful, altruistic goal of counseling people afflicted with mental illness, but Life is thwarting me at every turn from taking the first steps towards that goal. I’m exacerbated, but I gotta keep on keeping on.

(At least my poll numbers aren’t at 39%, so that’s something for which to be thankful. I mean, with everything that's been happening lately, I almost feel sorry for the guy. Almost.)

Steelers win, 21-10

Congrats to Pittsburgh for their Superbowl win!



While I’m happy for them, it does mean that another year of football is over (except for the Pro Bowl). And no, my recent enthusiasm for football has not been the result of me liking a guy and trying to get him to like me (for shame, those who thought otherwise…you know who you are). I’ve simply enjoyed watching the pure athleticism, strategy, and ebb and flow of the game.

You see, basketball moves too quickly for me, points are relatively easy to come by; but in football, there’s an amazing build-up to a potential score, with the occasionally long run that gets you screaming your head off. In other words, you can sit there on your lazy duff and watch a bunch of guys run, kick, pass, intercept, strategize, and screw up. Then, you can criticize or praise said guys for said actions, depend on if it was good for your team. Plus, if you missed something while conversing with a friend, no worries, there’s always the instant replay.

Now, if only there were more male cheerleaders, the game would be perfect.

New Job! (and yes, I still watch the news)

Yeah, there have been several world events that I thought about posting about: warrant-less wiretapping, Arial Sharon, Hamas, Alito, the fall of Tom Delay, Iranian nuclear program, ExxonMobil’s insane profits, UPN/WB merger, Brokeback Mountain, etc I haven’t been able to because my current job will ending in March, and I’ve been looking for a job. As a result, starting next Monday, I will be a mentor/semi-counselor for adolescents with behavior, emotional, and mental problems. I’ll be doing this in addition to the current coding job, and when that jobs ends, I’ll probably find some inconsequential retail job. Here I am, getting another wonderful grad-school application booster and a great opportunity for real-world experience, woohoo.

However, to compensate for my lack of (blogging) attention to world events, and in the interest of my two cents, here you go:

Did anyone learn anything from the Alito hearings besides Mrs. Alito's tearducts work? I want my tax money back.

The Palestinians feel that Israel took their land, and the Palestinians want that land back. Hamas basically purports that they will do anything to get said land back. Thus, the Palestinians voted for Hamas to get their land back. It’s very “A plus B equals C”, and this is one damn scary reality we’re left with.

Brokeback Mountain is a study in the human condition—a variation on the “two-starcrossed lovers,” with a protagonist clutching the emotional reticence that society taught him. This movie would work if it was about a man and woman, and that’s the best reason to see it—in the end, it’s a good movie about people.

The NSA may wiretap someone’s phone, and either get a warrant beforehand, or 72 hours after the phone in tapped. I don’t understand how getting a 3 day retroactive warrant can hinder the NSA from getting the intelligence as soon as they feel they need it. I never want to see this country attacked again, but I also want to make sure someone keeps an eye on the people who keep an eye on us, i want my civil liberties intact, and prevent the downward spirial towards Big Brother. I love this country, and I want to make sure it doesn't lose sight of its ideals. Get a freaking warrant people, it doesn't take much, you know where the office is, you can send the Undersecretary of Paperclips if you want.

If you’ll excuse me, the President’s State of the Union is over, and while I had no interest in sitting through the hour-long speech out of fear of the possible coma it would induce (because no one can deliver an invigorating State of the Union, admit it), I care enough to get a recap of the speech. So, let’s see what you said W.

wallets

So, last night, after leaving a party, I felt a little rumbling in my tummy and declared that I wanted some fries. So at 1:30 a.m. I drove to Wendy's with my friends Jon and Britt. We used the drive-thru, paid, got our food, quickly consumed said food, and continued with our night.

Now, fast-forward to 11:30 this morning when I get a call from Jon. He was wondering if his wallet was in my car. I went to check, and indeed his wallet is there. Oops. So, I had to drive back to Raleigh to deliver the wallet; because, ya know, Jon may want his driver's license, credit cards, money, et cetera.

As I was heading to Jon's house, he told me that Britt was also looking for his wallet. Could Britt's wallet be in my car? I turned around to the back seat where Britt was sitting, and yep, there's a black wallet in my back seat.

Two wallets...left in my car...on a Wendy's run. I couldn't help but laugh.

The O.C.: An Orange pile of CRAP

Back in 2003, the world was taken aback by the phenomenon known as The O.C. During this era, you could walk into almost any college dorm room and hear gasps, laughs, and plot predictions from O.C. viewers. And what a viewership: gay, straight, male, female, fratty, independent, we all loved The O.C. It was more clever than 90210, had more drama than Dawson’s Creek, almost as witty as Buffy, better drawn characters than Melrose Place—it was pure magic on your TV screen.

Then something happened—The O.C. started to suck, and suck hard.

It began when the show started to no longer be about the unique world that is Orange County. Marissa used to be the most popular girl in high school, Summer was her number 2, and when not attending their urbane, beachfront high school, they attended extravagant yet sordid parties. These parties were a world that the dorky, friendless Seth was not part of, nevertheless, he continued to pine over the unreachable and popular Summer. He was hindered from ever realizing Summer’s affection due the social hierarchy that ruled both the school and county. Three seasons later, that hierarchy has been forgotten, the parties no longer happen, and Summer and Marissa exclusively associate with Ryan and Seth (come on writers, you can’t be popular when you only have three people you ever associate with, one of whom you are dating).

Similarly, The O.C. circa first season was sprinkled with the adults gossiping, backstabbing, embezzling, and committing adultery. Now, the adults serve as little more than backdrop for Ryan, Marissa, Seth and Summer to interact with. Even the adult-centered plots seem like mere intermissions between involvements in the four teens’ lives. This isn’t a show about the idiosyncrasies of Orange County; it’s a show about a cast of one-dimensional characters who revolve around the four principals

Not only do these one-dimensional characters exist merely in orbit of Ryan, Marissa, Seth and Summer, their orbit is so weak that they are all at risk of being jettisoned out of the O.C. universe. There was Luke, who once hated Ryan, then accepted Ryan and Marissa as a couple, then crashed his car, then moved to Oregon with his gay dad. There was Lindsay, who didn’t respect Ryan’s worthiness of being born, then fell in love with Ryan, then found out that she was Kirsten’s half-sister, navigated the tightrope of dating your half-sister’s stepson, then moved to Chicago with her birth mom. There was Anna, who was funny, smart, quirky, and an all around perfect match for Seth, but Seth will always love Summer, and instead of keeping this awesome character around to continue to spice up The O.C., Anna got shipped off. For a while there, the writers even forgot that Marissa had a little sister, but rest assured, once Kaitlin’s storyline is resolved, she’ll be gone—I give it four episodes, tops.

Why only four episodes? Well, because that’s what The O.C. does: creates a complex, almost convoluted storyline that has promise to create oodles of drama, only to be resolved in two to four episodes. Back in the good ol’ days of Season One (when the writers cared about the plots), Ryan was the only one who saw through the nice guy façade of Oliver, seeing instead Oliver’s true nature as a Marissa-obsessed, compulsively lying, NRA card-carrying, psychotic freak. It took half a season before anyone else caught on to Oliver’s craziness, and in the mean-time, Ryan came off as a jerk. Due to dramtic irony, we—the viewers—knew that Ryan was right to not trust Oliver, and as such, we were on the edge of our seats as the drama unfolded.

Now jump to last season finale: Marissa had just shot Ryan’s brother as he was about to pummel Ryan! Wow--would the brother survive, would Marissa go to jail? We got the answers in the next season premiere, and they were “yes” and “no” respectively. The entire storyline was resolved IN ONE FREAKING EPISODE. Also, there was an evil Dean of Students who expelled Ryan and Marissa, but after a pretty weak blackmailing by Sandy, left The O.C. four episodes after he came. Remember when Marissa was a lesbian for a while? No? Not surprising. I could go on, but you get the picture.

Even with the plotlines being cut so short, they are far too predicable. When Marissa had to go to public school (because, my God, NO ONE should be sent through THAT torture), and she was befriended by Johnny and his clique, it was so clear what was going to happen. There would be a spark between Marissa and Johnny, Ryan would get jealous but trust his girlfriend, Marissa would try to resist Johnny’s expression of love, Ryan will clandestinely see Marissa and Johnny getting physically close, blah blah blah, BORING.

This show has become utter crap, its noxious fumes radiate from my TV, I can no longer watch the beauty and talent of Adam Brody be so heinously misused, I can no longer witness Marissa try to express feelings beyond her body’s hunger pains (seriously, I think Mischa Barton weighs less than the box of Triscits that she’s not eating).

It’s done, over, The O.C. is dead to me. Please excuse me as I watch Battlestar Galactica.

Out of touch

I consider myself to be pretty much on top of what’s going on in the world. For example, I can hold conversations about wiretapping, the Iranian nuclear program, the current state of the mental health field, the weaken General Motors, and illegal immigration. I even know that the North Star is actually three separate stars.

So HOW THE HELL did I not know that Jamie Foxx had an R&B album?



God, I’m out of touch.

Dang, that is a sweet sidewalk you might say

Do you love The End of the World? Well, someone decided to do a sidewalk chalk sideshow of the greatest flash animation known to man. I would pity these people, but it's far too awesome.

http://www.dbrodie.photosite.com/endoftheworld/

Are you ready for some football?

MY GOD. I thought the Penn State/FSU game was intense, but my palms are still stinging after the torrent of clapping I did as Texas just clinched The Rose Bowl against Southern California. Final score 41-38. It’s so good to see the fake “USC” go down…who’s number 1 now?

Much props to Frosty, Nick (Skippy), Nate, the boys upstairs, and anyone else who helped me appreciate the greatness of football. It is because of you that I am in such a jubilant mood right now.

And I have the NFL playoffs to look forward to...nice.

It'll always be USC and Carolina to me

There are some things that I have noticed are different outside of South Carolina. For one, Strom Thurmond is even more of a joke. You also realize how beautifully simple yet awesome the palmetto and crescent moon is compared to every other state’s flag. For some reason, state and US highways are not given names in the Triangle, but rather are referred to by their numerical designation, which can make driving a little confusing. Indeed, I spend considerable time on highways 1, 54, 55, 15-501, 751, 147, and so on. Columbia peeps, did you even know that Two Notch Road is actually US HWY 1?

But the biggest difference is the USC/Carolina conflict. If you’re not from South Carolina, or have not spent considerable time there, you may not realize that the University of South Carolina at Columbia is called both USC and Carolina. Outside of the state, these names refer to University of Southern California and University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill respectively.

This fact is difficult for a South Carolinian to accept, or even come to realize. When I was younger, I was so impressed and proud that Zack, Jesse, and the rest of the Saved by the Bell crew were considering going to “USC” for college. It was some years later when I realized that the Baysiders had no intention of moving to South Carolina.

So, now what does a South Carolinian do when he wants to refer to his Fighting Gamecocks? Well, let’s see; the University of South Carolina was founded in 1801, California did not become a state until 1850, and their university was not founded until 1880. In my opinion, the school that was created first should be referred to by the USC acronym—we were “USC” first. You may call the other school “Southern California,” “SC,” or freaking “So-Cal.”

Now, I concede that for the rest of the world, Carolina means UNC, especially in basketball. I also note that UNC was founded first, and their athletics are more prominent. But I’m sorry; my brain just doesn’t allow me to freely say “Carolina” in reference to UNC—the neurons just won’t fire.

So, I fully admit that outside of South Carolina, I may not be the norm, but for me and the state's other 4,200,000+ citizens, USC and Carolina refer to the same school and you non-South Carolinians will just have to deal with it.

I just noticed that I included a number of wikipedia links in this post. For variety, and since I mentioned Saved by the Bell, I just wanted to remind you how excited Jesse was…until she was so scared.

The pic says it all

(Shamelessly borrowed from The Link, but it's a picture of my friends Stephanie and Hunter, so it just begs to be used)

Holiday Message

I’m heading to Columbia tomorrow for the holidays, but before I left I just wanted to wish you all a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, Happy Winter Solstice, and (for all you Atheists/Agnostics out there), happy last few days of December.

Much love to you all.